m 


M  I 


I   |:il! 


(■if 


m 


llljl 
i:!!:'. 


LIBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.  EDWIN  CORLE 
IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  HORACE  ARMSTRONG 


The  Surgeojs^'s  Stoeies. 


By  Z.  TOPELIUS. 


THE 

SURGEON'S  Stories. 

BY 

Z.   TOPELIUS, 

PBorzssoB  OF  UiSTCBY,  Univkrsity  of  Abo,  Finland. 


A  SERIES  OP 


Swedish  Historical  Romances, 

IN  SIX  CYCLES. 

(Each  Cyclk  in  one  Volume.    Price  10.75.) 

First  Cycle — Times  of  Gustaf  Adolf. 
Second  Cycle — Times  op  Battle  and  Rest. 
Third  Cycle — Times  op  Charles  XII, 
Fourth  Cycle — Times  of  Frederick  I. 
Fifth  Cycle— Times  of  Linn^us. 
Sixth  Cycle — Times  of  Alchemy. 


IS  20 

Mdf  f  re  fared  to  accompany  "  The  Snr^eon^s  Stories 


The  Surgeon's  Stories 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY^ 


By  Z.  TOPELIUS 


EranslateB  from  tlje  ©rigtnal  StoeHts?) 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  COMPANT 

1891 


/  ^ 


COPTRIGHT, 

BY  JANSEN,  McCLURG,  &  CO. 

A.  D..  1884. 


B.   R.    DONNELLEY   &   SONS,    TDK   LAKESIDE   PRESS,    PRINTERS. 


The  SrEGEOi^'s  Stoeies. 


SIXTH   CYCLE: 

TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Part   I. — Evening  Storms. 
Part  II. — Morning  Light. 


CONTENTS. 


PART   I.— EVENING  STORMS, 


Interlude 
Chapter  I. 
Chapter  II. 
Chapter  III. 
Chapter  IV. 
Chapter  V. 
Chapter  VI. 
Chapter  VII. 
Chapter  VIII. 
Chapter  IX. 
Chapter  X. 
Chapter  XI. 
Chapter  XII. 
Chapter  XIII. 
Chapter  XIV. 
Chapter  XV. 
Chapter  XVI. 
Chapter  XVII. 
Chapter  XVIII, 
Chapter  XIX. 
Chapter  XX. 
Chapter  XXI. 
Chapter  XXII. 
Chapter  XXIII. 
Chapter  XXIV. 
Chapter  XXV. 
Chapter  XXVI. 
Chapter  XXVII. 


9 

At  Falkby  in  East  Gothland          -  lo 

Countess  Esther       .         .         .         .  i6 

The  Bertelskold  Family  in  1771     -  21 

Step-Mother  and  Step-Son         -         -  26 

Lightning  in  the  Thunder-Cloud  -  31 

The  Farewell  -----  36 

The  Song  of  the  Pasture-Girl        -  42 

A  Country  at  Auction       .         .         .  47 

The  Highest  Offer        -         .         .  52 

An  Audience  with  Gustaf  III.           -  58 

Paul  Bertelskold's  Arrival  Home  -  64 

A  Dangerous  Subject        .         .         _  69 

Inexplicable  Enigmas   -         -         -  73 

Gathering  Storms     -         ...  78 

The  Rift  in  the  Ice       -         -         -  84 

The  Storm  Breaks  Loose          -         -  88 

The  Old  Story  of  Two  Brothers  -  93 

On  Swedish  Ground          -         -         -  98 

Conspirator  Against  Conspirator  -  104 

The  Burgher-Wives           ...  log 

The  Seat  of  the  Councillors'  Wives  115 

Marchioness  Egmont        .         .         _  120 

Storming  a  Heart           .         .         _  125 

Hate  and  Love         ....  132 

King  Gustaf  III.           ...  igy 

Signs  and  Warnings          ...  142 

Intrigues  and  Spider. Webs    -         -  148 
7 


s 


cox  TEXTS. 


CllAiTKR  XXVlll.  Affair  Number  iMve  -         -         -  I54 

CnAPTKR  XXIX.  Conclusion  of  Affair  Number  Five  i6o 

CnATTKR  XXX.  Another  Disappearance     -         -         -  164 

CilAriKR  XXXI.  The  Newspapers  and  their  Readers  168 

ChaI'TKK  XXXII.  The  Spider  in  the  Net      -         -         -  174 


PART    II.— MORNING  LIGHT. 


Interlude 

CHAI'TER 

I. 

CHAriEK 

II. 

Chapter 

III. 

Chapter 

IV. 

Chapter 

V. 

Chapter 

VI. 

Chapter 

VII. 

Chapter 

VIII. 

Chapter 

IX. 

Chapter 

X. 

Chapter 

XI. 

Chapter 

XII. 

Chapter 

XIII. 

Chapter 

XIV. 

Chapter 

XV. 

Chapter  XVI. 

Chapter 

XVII. 

Chapter 

XVIII. 

Chapter 

XIX. 

Chafper 

XX. 

Chapter 

XXI. 

Chapter 

XXII. 

Chapter 

XXIII. 

Chapter 

XXIV. 

i8o 

The  Thralldom  of  Mammon         -  185 
The     Constellation    of   the    14th    of 

January,   131 S     -         -         -         -  190 
In   the   Hunting    Lodge   at    Bruns- 
wick          197 

The  Border  of  Eternity   -         -         -  202 

The  Old  and  the  New  Man  -         -  208 

The  Battle  for  a  Human  Soul  -        -  215 

Two  Women's  Love     -         -         -  221 

The  Tempter  in  the  Wilderness         -  228 

The  First  Trial  ...  234 

The    Conspirator    and    the    Private 

Secretary     .         .         -         -         -  240 

A  Great  Actor      -         -         -         -  247 

The  Festival  at  the  Zoological  Garden  253 

The  King  of  the  Wise  Among  Fools  260 

The  Second  Trial     ....  266 

The  i8th  of  August     -         -         -  272 

The  Hobgoblin  with  the  Red  Cap    -  279 

The  rgth  of  August     -         -         -  285 

In  the  Midst  of  Jubilation        -        -  291 

A  Name 297 

The  Third  Trial       -         -         -         -  304 

At  Flinta's  Cottage       .         .         -  310 

An  Evening  in  Rosy  Clouds     -         -  317 

The  Morning  of  the  Realm  -  323 

Morning  Light  at  Falkby  -         -  328 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


PART  I.— EVENING  STORMS. 


INTERLUDE. 


WHEN  the  Surgeon  had  finished  his  story  of 
"  The  Freethinker,"  the  old  grandmother 
shook  her  gray  head  with  displeasure.  She  did  not 
like  a  freedom  of  thought  of  such  a  kind  as  Paul 
Bertelskold's,  and  much  less  would  she  relate  such 
thoughts  in  the  presence  of  children.  She  had,  there- 
fore, with  no  failure  to  appreciate  the  curiosity  of  the 
small  auditors,  sent  them  to  bed  at  the  beginning  of 
the  story  about  the  discussion  at  Abo,  and  was  weigh- 
ing in  her  mind  how  far  she  ought  at  all  to  let  them 
listen  to  further  stories  of  such  doubtful  tenor.  And 
it  was  only  upon  the  most  decided  assurance  of  the 
Surgeon  that  no  more  atheism  was  to  be  mentioned, 
that  the  rigid  censor  of  the  attic  gave  her  official  leave 
for  the  continuation,  so  far  as  it  touched  an  infant 
public,  and  stipulated  for  herself,  with  equal  decision, 
that  in  future  she  was  to  be  spared  such  blasphemies. 
"  But  how  will  you  manage  that  we  shall  be  in  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  without  catching  an 
echo  of  that  keen,  universal  spirit  of  skepticism,  which 
at  that  time  had  laid  hold  of  the  world,  and  consti- 
tuted at  once  the  weakness  and  the  greatness  of  that 
period,  its  fall  and  its  restoration, — the  burning  purga- 

(9) 


10  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

tory  out  of  which  a  refined  faith  afterward  came  forth 
purer  ?"  gently  objected  the  Surgeon. 

'*  So  far  as  I  understand,"  replied  grandmother, 
"  we  Lutherans  acknowledge  no  purgatory,  and  all  the 
stupid  nonsense  of  those  old  times  can  therefore  be 
allowed  to  die  away  in  air.  In  my  youth  I  heard  a 
great  deal  which  I  have  since  been  content  to  forget; 
and  if  there  have  been  revilers  and  slanderers  who 
have  amused  themselves  reading  the  catechism  back- 
wards and  making  fun  of  sacred  things,  let  them  be 
left  to  that  Judge  in  whose  presence  they  have  long 
been,  to  answer  for  their  godless  heresies,  and  not  be 
awakened  from  the  grave  to  trouble  the  simple  faith  of 
good  Christians.  But  it  is  said  as  it  is  said;  and  you 
can  go  on,  cousin,  to  more  decent  subjects.  I  confess 
that  I  am  curious  to  hear  how  Countess  Esther  over 
there  gets  along  in  that  aristocratic  family.  I  am  afraid 
she  will  some  day  have  her  hands  full  with  her  step- 
children, the  poor  creature  !  " 

"  It  is  possible,"  responded  the  Surgeon,  "and  we 
will  therefore  immediately  remove  across  the  sea  to 
Sweden,  where  we  shall  again  find  the  titled  pair,  at  a 
time  which,  for  the  realm  and  our  friends,  may  well  be 
likened  to  an  evening  twilight,  filled  with  many  storms, 
but  which  nevertheless  has  the  morning  in  its  bosom." 


CHAPTER  I. 

AT  FALKBV  IN  EAST  GOTHLAND. 

DO  you  Still  remember  the  little  Falkby  of  old, 
away  down  in  East  Gothland,  where  Gustaf 
Bertelskold's  widow,  the  noble  and  proud  Countess 
Eva,  spent  so  many  lonely  years  in  mourning  weeds  for 
her  husband  ;  where  her  son,  Count  Charles  Victor, 


EVENING  STORMS.  11 

had  played  in  his  happy  childhood,  and  whither,  one 
bleak  winter  day,  he  brought  home  Esther  Larsson, 
who  was  fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  her  father  and  the 
slander  of  the  Swedish  metropolis  ? 

Since  that  day,  twenty-three  years  had  been  swept 
away  by  the  billows  of  time,  and  Falkby  was  now  quite 
different  from  what  it  used  to  be.  Countess  Eva  had 
been  cruelly  persecuted  by  her  powerful  brother-in-law. 
Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  and  since  the  rigorous 
government  of  Gortz  in  Sweden,  the  greater  share  of 
the  property  had  passed  under  the  hammer  for  arrear 
taxes.  At  that  time  Falkby  was  only  the  shadow  of 
a  Swedish  nobleman's  country-seat,  and,  with  more 
courage  than  success,  its  possessor  was  struggling 
against  the  pressure  of  poverty.  But  since  then  the 
fate  of  Falkby  had  considerably  brightened. 

Countess  Eva  had  lived  to  see  the  day  when  her 
heartless  brother-in-law,  unexpectedly  snatched  away 
from  his  high-soaring  plans,  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
his  great  property  as  an  inheritance  to  his  nephew,  and 
she  had  closed  her  changeful  life  in  undisturbed  happi- 
ness, surrounded  by  wealth  and  filial  affection.  The 
son,  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold,  had  not  only  restored 
to  the  property  all  its  former  belongings,  but  had  also, 
a  little  distance  from  the  humble  one-story  house  of 
yore,  had  a  magnificent  three-story  castle  erected,  sur- 
rounded by  an  extensive  and  costly  garden,  with  a 
park,  the  whole  according  to  an  old  drawing,  which 
still  exists,  of  the  Bertelskolds'  former  family-seat, 
Majniemi  Castle,  in  Finland.  The  present  count  had 
been  very  careful  about  erecting  the  new  Falkby  in  the 
very  same  style,  and  it  had  cost  him  an  enormous  sum; 
but  then  the  castle  was  a  master-work  of  the  style  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  with  beautiful  fafades,  expen- 
sive statues  of  bronze,  and  other  features  of  splendor, 
which  are  more  particularly  described  in  one  of  our 
former  stories.  Behind  the  oaks  of  the  park,  however, 
the  old  building  remained  undisturbed,   in  the  same 


TJ  TIMES  OF  ALCI/F.AfV. 

condition  as  when  it  was  iiihal)ited  by  the  mother  of 
the  present  possessor;  and  beside  it  still  dwelt  honest 
Heri;flygt.  the  jj^ardener,  who  in  his  younger  years  had 
been  selected  by  Countess  Eva  as  the  present  coun- 
tess's husband, — a  match  which  might  reasonably  be 
reckoned  among  the  best,  since  nothing  came  of  it,  but 
whose  memory  by  no  means  disturbed  the  friendly 
confidence  between  mistress  and  servant. 

The  honest  gardener  was  now  an  affable  old  man 
of  sixty,  who  had  not  laid  his  rejection  so  badly  to 
heart  but  that  he  had  a  year  later  chosen  as  his  wife  a 
rosy  daughter  of  a  saddler  from  Linkojning,  at  whose 
side  his  quiet  life  flowed  on  like  a  flourishing  cabbage- 
field,  without  special  worms  on  the  leaves,  until  he 
obtained  the  honorable  but  responsible  charge  of  lay- 
ing out  the  magnificent  new  garden,  after  the  some- 
what antiquated  model  from  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. 
The  good  man  was  then  conscious  of  having  his  hands 
full,  for  on  that  point  his  master  was  inexorable,  and 
woe  unto  that  hedge  which  was  not  trimmed  according 
to  the  model,  that  walk  which  did  not  wend  its  bee-line 
to  its  goal,  or  that  tree  which  did  not  stand  pre- 
cisely where  it  ought  to  stand  !  With  many  a  deep 
sigh  had  Bergflygt  finally  succeeded  in  doing  that  tech- 
nical violence  to  nature,  which,  in  the  time  of  Louis 
XIV,  was  regarded  as  the  height  of  refined  taste,  and, 
as  often  happens,  became  enamored  of  his  own  work 
until  he  was  ready  to  wager  his  neck  that  nothing  could 
be  more  beautiful  and  perfect  than  this  very  garden. 
But  then,  when  he  had  just  got  done  with  his  dis- 
tinguished model  in  the  higher  peruke  style,  it  hap- 
pened that  his  master,  one  fine  day  nineteen  years  ago, 
brought  home  his  former  flame,  the  young  countess; 
and  this  event  made  a  revolution  at  Falkby. 

Countess  Esther  Bertelskold,  fz^e  Larsson,  had  the 
inborn  commonplace  taste  to  look  upon  nature's  own 
models  as  incomparably  more  charming  than  the  most 
brilliant  invention  of  a  French  gardener,  and,  as  she 


EVENING   STORMS.  13 

had  an  unlimited  influence  over  her  husband,  it  was  no 
longer  than  until  the  next  spring  before  poor  Bergflygt 
was  obliged  to  do  over  again  the  troublesome  work 
already  done.  The  straight  walks  were  curved  anew, 
the  stubbed  hedges  gained  a  certain  degree  of  free- 
dom, the  peruke-style  was  sentenced  to  banishment, 
and  the  garden  once  more,  as  nearly  as  possible,  ap- 
proached rural  simplicity.  For  two  years,  Bergflygt 
secretly  grumbled  about  "  that  Finnish  calf-pasture 
which  would  do  very  well  for  cattle,"  the  third  year  he 
found  it  endurable  enough,  and  a  year  later  he  main- 
tained that  even  others  besides  oxen  might  find  pleas- 
ure in  his  new  arrangement;  and  finally,  after  the  great 
Linnaeus  had  one  summer  visited  Falkby,  and  flattered 
him  with  a  few  friendly  words  about  the  successful  in- 
stitution, Bergflygt  boldly  claimed  that  in  all  the  zones 
of  the  earth  not  a  park  was  to  be  found  which  could 
be  compared  with  Falkby.  "  That,  you  know,  is  what  I 
have  always  said,"  he  would  say;  "a  garden  ought  to 
be  for  people,  and  not  for  stone  images;  but  the  count 
would  not  hear  a  word  of  that,  until  I  at  last  succeeded 
in  getting  the  countess  to  listen  to  reason." 

One  fine  spring  morning,  about  this  time,  Berg- 
flygt, the  gardener,  was  earnestly  engaged  in  decorating 
a  pretty  summer-house  in  the  park,  with  flowers  and 
foliage,  in  honor  of  two  remarkable  events  in  his  mas- 
ter's family.  The  immediate  occasion  soon  disclosed 
itself  in  the  following  conversation  between  the  gar- 
dener and  his  Skanian  assistant  who  was  poling  the 
beans: 

"  Wonderful  !  "  said  the  Skanian,  "  how  grandly 
you  are  fixing  things  up  to-day!  It  is  for  the  gracious 
count,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Ves,  indeed,  Rasmus,"  replied  the  gardener;  "this 
is  the  gracious  master's  birthday.  To-day  he  com- 
pletes his  fifty-sixth  year,  you  must  know." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  that.  He  is  getting  to  look  older  all 
the  time.     He  might  be  your  father." 


14  TIMES  OF  AT.CFfEMY. 

"  He  is  five  years  younger  than  I,  Rasmus.  But 
he  broke  his  leg  thirty  years  ago,  and  since  then  his 
health  has  not  always  been  good." 

"  What  !  Broke  his  leg,  did  he  ?  It  could  never 
have  been  while  on  a  spree,  like  some  others,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Shame  on  you,  boy,  and  take  care  how  you  speak 
about  the  gracious  count  !  He  has  had  such  things  to 
think  about  as  give  gray  hairs." 

"  Do  tell  !  Just  as  if  such  a  fine  gentleman  could 
have  anything  to  think  about  but  to  eat  meat  five  times 
a  day,  and  sleep  till  broad  daylight,  and  wear  nice 
clothes  !  But  perhaps  it  is  her  grace,  who  is  so  strict 
and  trying  ? " 

"  I  tell  you,  Rasmus,  if  you  presume  to  forget  that 
respect  due  from  you  to  her  grace,  I  will  try  those 
mountain-ash  sticks  on  your  back.  Even  if  it  were 
proper  to  speak  of  the  gracious  pair  as  we  would  speak 
about  common  folks,  I  would  tell  you  that  in  the  whole 
kingdom  of  Sweden  there  is  not  a  better  wife  to  a  bet- 
ter husband.     Do  you  understand  it,  rascal  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand.  She  is  a  good  deal  the 
more  capable  in  her  house,  it  is  said,  and  more  gener- 
ous to  the  poor,  though  it  is  said  she  understands 
witchcraft.  And  she  knows  pretty  well  that  there  are 
twenty  marks  to  the  lispund,  for  you  see  her  father  is 
said  to  have  been  a  butter  merchant  in  Russia." 

"  I  will  lather  you  !  "  exclaimed  the  gardener,  as  in 
his  anger  he  seized  the  nearest  mountain-ash  whip,  to 
execute  his  threat. 

Rasmus  betook  himself  to  entreaty.  "  I  will  hold 
my  mouth  like  a  mole,"  he  protested,  and  looked  more 
stupid  than  a  field-mouse.  "You  know  you  said  your- 
self that  his  grace  had  got  gray  hair." 

"  That  is  what  I  said,"  responded  Bergflygt;  "but 
it  is  not  her  grace's  fault, — it  is  young  Count  Bern- 
hard's." 

"  Oh  !     That  was  it !     It  used  to  be  said  that  the 


EVENING  STORMS.  15 

young  count  was  awfully  conceited  and  stubborn. 
And  then  it  is  said  that  he  cannot  bear  his  mother, 
because  she  understands  the  steelyard  business." 

The  gardener  gave  a  couple  of  flourishes  with  the 
mountain-ash  stick,  but,  probably  fancying  that  he  had 
himself  gossiped  more  than  was  exactly  prudent,  he 
contented  himself  with  the  declaration  that  people 
talked  nonsense.  This  very  day  her  grace  was  going 
to  celebrate  the  young  count's  return  from  Spain,  and 
people  ought  to  understand  from  that,  that  everything 
was  as  it  should  be. 

"  Good  gracious  !  I  wonder  if  he  is  black  as  a 
Moor !  "  suggested  the  guileful  boy.  "  What  has  he 
had  to  do  in  Spain  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  secretary  to  his  royal  majesty's 
ambassador,  and  is  now  coming  back  to  the  diet,  to 
hear  how  the  new  king  swears  about  liberty." 

"  Indeed  !  Will  the  king  swear  about  liberty  ?  " 
inquired  the  assistant.  "  Well,  I  like  that !  But  I  al- 
most think  the  young  count  will  not  fancy  the  same, 
for,  the  fact  is,  people  say  that  liberty  is  a  fine  thing 
for  the  masters." 

"Ass!  " 

"  Well,  well,  you  might  as  well  call  me  a  horse, 
for  I  have  not  been  in  Spain.  Is  it  true  that  there  is 
another  young  nobleman  who  has  gone  to  the  Finns 
to  learn  the  black  art  ?  You  see,  then,  I  can  get  it  into 
my  head  why  his  grace  has  got  gray  hair,  for  you  see 
when  both  wife  and  child  addict  themselves  to  such 
practices,  it  is  almost  too  much." 

But  now  the  good  gardener's  patience  gave  way, 
and  a  dozen  vigorous  blows  from  the  mountain-ash 
stick  taught  the  knavish  servant  to  have  respect  for 
his  master  and  mistress — and  for  Finnish  witchcraft. 


TI.\rf-:S  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

COUNTESS     ESTHER. 

WHILE  the  mountain-ash  stick  was  still  merrily 
buzzing  around  the  ears  of  the  Skanian,  that 
person  gained  an  unexpected  ally  in  distress.  A  girl 
of  eight  years,  frolicsome,  happy,  dark-eyed,  beautiful 
as  night  and  day,  at  a  distance  became  aware  of  the 
performance,  and  like  a  rocket  flew  over  the  curved 
walks.  Before  the  gardener  as  yet  suspected  her  pres- 
ence, she  already  stood  behind  him,  laid  hold  of  the 
mountain-ash  whip,  snatched  it  from  him  and  broke  it 
in  two. 

"  Bergflygt,  you  must  not  strike  Rasmus  !  Nobody 
must  fight  in  the  park  ! "  said  she,  half  angry,  half 
laughing. 

The  astonished  man  let  the  delinquent  go,  turned 
around  and  fretfully  muttered:  "Are  you  here  again, 
now  ?  The  little  lady  will  do  nothing,  then,  but  mis- 
chief. Rasmus  is  a  rascal,  and  ought  to  be  driven  out 
of  service." 

"  You  only  are  bad,  Bergflygt !  "  willfully  cried  the 
girl.  "  I  like  Rasmus.  He  made  boats  and  mills  for 
me  at  the  brook.  There,  don't  cry,  Rasmus  !  Here, 
you  shall  have  a  bun." 

"  My  gracious  !  "  said  the  Skanian,  ashamed  and 
cunning.  "  I  am  not  crying.  I  had  got  a  little  dirt 
on  my  jacket,  and  our  dear  father  dusted  it  off  a  little. 
He  is  so  unmercifully  neat." 

"  I  will  teach  you  to  be  neat !  "  said  his  exasperated 
superior,  as  he  grasped  after  another  stick.  The  coh- 
sequence  of  this  threatening  motion  was  that  the  girl 
took  Bergflygt  by  both  arms,  and,  swinging  him  around, 


EVENING   STORMS.  17 

laughed  so  heartily  that  he  was  finally  obliged  to  laugh 
too. 

"  I  shall  tell  mamma  what  the  little  lady  does,  just 
when  we  are  in  such  a  hurry,"  he  growled. 

"  Well,  Bergflygt,  you  can  tell, — you  see  there 
comes  mamma  !  "  said  the  girl  defiantly. 

A  little  distance  away,  a  tall,  stately  form  was  seen 
appearing  between  the  young  leaves  of  the  park.  The 
nineteen  years  since  we  last  saw  Countess  Esther 
had  made  but  little  change  in  her  exterior.  The  lus- 
trous, dark,  warm  eyes  were  the  same  as  of  old.  She 
had  grown  somewhat  stouter,  her  features  expressed 
more  decision,  and  her  walk  and  bearing  were  perhaps 
somewhat  prouder.  In  her  whole  manner  there  was 
something  at  once  commanding  and  agreeable,  which 
was  suggestive  of  her  husband's  former  expression, 
that  the  burgher's  daughter  was  a  born  princess.  But 
of  that  kind  of  aristocracy  which  adores  itself  in  a 
simulated  condescension,  there  was  in  the  Countess  of 
Falkby  not  a  trace. 

"What  is  it?"  said  the  countess,  who  saw  her 
daughter,  wild  and  dancing,  holding  the  gardener  fast. 

"  He  wants  to  strike  Rasmus  !  He  wants  to  drive 
Rasmus  away  !  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  The  boy  has  been  insolent,  and  your  grace  sees, 
yourself,  how  my  time  is  being  lost,"  pleaded  the 
gardener. 

"  Let  Bergflygt  go,  Vera  ! "  said  the  countess. 
"  And  you,  my  dear  Bergflygt,  need  not  lay  to  heart 
every  frivolous  word.  Many  rain-drops  fall  into  the 
sea,  and  many  a  sprout  shoots  up  at  the  roots  of  the 
trees.     Are  you  done  with  the  work  ? " 

"  In  half  an  hour  your  grace's  commands  shall 
be  carried  out  to  a  dot,  if  I  can  only  have  the  favor  of 
being  let  alone,"  sighed  Bergflygt,  with  a  furtive  glance 
at  his  tormenting  spirit. 

"That  is  good,"  continued  the  countess,  as  she 
inspected  the  preparations.  "  Put  everything  in  order, 
1*  B 


18  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

and  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  this  little  romp.  In 
an  iiour  we  shall  drink  chocolate  in  the  summer-house, 
ant!  later  we  expect  rare  company.  My  eldest  daugh- 
ter is  already  arrived,  and  Count  Bernhard  is  expected 
this  afternoon.  I  hope  they  will  praise  your  good 
taste,  for  you  have  taken  great  pains,  my  good 
Bergflygt." 

The  gardener  bowed  ceremoniously,  but  his  satis- 
fied air  plainly  indicated  that  his  brief  wrath  was 
quickly  appeased. 

"  Sister  is  still  asleep,  and  it  is  nine  o'clock  in  the 
forenoon  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Vera,  as  she  turned  on 
her  heel. 

"  Sister  is  tired  from  traveling,  and  at  court  people 
sleep  later  because  they  sit  up  later  than  we  are  used 
to  doing  at  Falkby,"  replied  the  mother.  *'  Come,  it 
is  time  for  you  to  dress  for  our  company." 

"  I  think  I  am  all  right  as  I  am,  mamma,"  said  the 
girl  innocently.  "  You  see  they  are  only  my  sister  and 
brother." 

"  Your  sister  and  brother  are  not  accustomed  to 
seeing  run-down  shoes  and  faded  clothes,"  replied  the 
mother.     "  Besides,  it  is  your  father's  birthday.  " 

While  mother  and  daughter  were  together  returning 
to  the  castle,  the  little  one  walked  awhile  in  silence 
and  then  asked:  "Mamma,  is  Bernhard  proud  ?" 

"Why  should  he  be  ?  "  said  the  mother  evasively. 

"  Oh,  I  remember  how,  when  I  was  little,  he  once 
said  to  mamma,  '  Madame,  you  have  to  thank  my 
father  that  I  kiss  your  hand.'  " 

"  Oh,  you  little  kettles  with  your  ears ! "  said 
the  countess  with  embarrassment.  "  Bernhard  was 
right,  of  course, — he  Hkes  me  because  he  likes  papa." 

"  But,"  persisted  the  girl,  "  if  he  likes  mamma, 
why  does  he  always  call  her  ^Madame  ' .?  " 

"  That  is  what  is  said  to  empresses  and  queens. 
There  is  nothing  bad  in  that — indeed,  it  is  very 
polite." 


EVENING   STORMS.  19 

"  Well,  if  it  is  so  polite,  I  will  begin  to  say  madame 
too.  Madame  !  No,  fy  !  how  can  I  say  so  to  my  own 
mamma  ?  Sister  Louise,  you  see,  she  is  wise ;  she 
calls  mamma  nothing  at  all.  But  how  does  Paul  ?  Is 
Paul,  too,  in  the  habit  of  saying  madame  ?  " 

"  It  is  different  with  Paul.  He  has  been  accustomed 
to  saying  mamma  ever  since  he  was  little;  but  Bern- 
hard  and  Louise  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  their 
mamma  when  they  were  quite  small,  and  so  they  have 
not  been  in  the  habit  of  saying  so." 

Vera  walked  a  few  steps,  musing,  but  it  was  not  her 
nature  long  to  keep  silence.  "  Are  you  not  their  real 
mamma  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Their  good  mamma  died,  and  then  your  father 
asked  me  to  be  a  second  mother  for  them,"  said  the 
countess.  "When  you  grow  larger,  my  Vera,  you  will 
understand  that  people  can  seldom  love  their  second 
mother  so  warmly  as  they  love  their  first.  But  they 
can  be  really  good  friends  for  all  that,  when  they  ap- 
preciate each  other." 

"  Can  any  one  like  his  half  brother  and  half  sister 
the  way  he  likes  his  whole  brother  and  whole  sister  ? " 

"  Certainly  he  can,  and  he  ought  to  do  so.  Promise 
me  to  be  very  friendly,  very  kind  and  cordial,  toward 
Bernhard  and  Louise.  It  will  not  be  difficult  for  you 
when  you  get  more  acquainted.  You  have  not  seen 
Louise  in  three  years,  and  Bernhard  in  five.  So  you 
are  a  stranger  to  them,  and  do  not  rightly  understand 
them.  But  it  will  be  pleasant  enough.  Louise  is  very 
agreeable  and  sensible,  and  can  tell  you  beautiful 
things  about  the  court,  for  she  was  maid-of-honor  to 
the  queen  before  she  was  married,  three  years  ago, 
to  the  Saxon  minister.  Baron  Clairfeld." 

"  But  I  think  more  of  Paul,  for  all  that !  " 

"And  Bernhard,"  continued  the  mother,  without 
pretending  to  hear  her,  "Bernhard  is  a  stately  young 
gentleman,  who  has  seen  much  of  the  world  on  his 
foreign  travels.     He  can  tell  you  still  more  charming 


20  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

tliin.i;s  about  fine  vSpanish  knights,  and  bull-figlits,  and 
black  Moors,  and  lions  of  Africa.  You  will  be  charmed 
to  hear  him.'' 

"  Hut  1  think  more  of  Paul,  for  all  that !  "  persist- 
ently repeated  the  girl,  and  shook  her  handsome  curly 
head  with  displeasure. 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  bit  of  Finnish  in  you  ! "  merrily 
responded  the  mother.  "  Love  all  your  brothers  and 
sisters  sincerely.  You  need  not  on  that  account  think 
less  of  Paul." 

"  But,  mamma,  do  you  not  think  that  Paul  is  a  hun- 
dred times  better  than  both  Louise  and  Bernhard  ? 
He  is  much  handsomer,  and  much  more  courageous 
and  friendly  and  sincere  !  Oh  !  I  am  so  lonesome  for 
my  own  brother  Paul  !  Will  he  not  soon  come  back 
from  that  bad  Finland  ?  " 

"  I  am  expecting  a  letter  soon,  and  perhaps  he  will 
come  to  visit  us  this  summer.  But  why  are  you  so 
displeased  with  Finland  ?  Both  your  father  and  I  were 
born  in  that  country." 

"  Old    Beata   says   that   the   Finns   are    only   half 
human.     And  then  they  understand  witchcraft.     .    . 
Folks  say  that  you  understand  it  too,  mamma,  and  that 
you  have  bewitched  papa.      But  I  can  never  believe 
that,"  very  naively  protested  Vera. 

The  countess  flushed.  She  very  well  knew  that 
senseless,  opprobrious  report;  and  now  she  must  hear 
it  from  her  own  child! 


EVENING   STORMS.  31 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    BERTELSKOLD    FAMILY    IN    177I. 

THE  festival  which  Countess  Bertelskold  had 
arranged  for  her  husband's  birthday  was  simple, 
charming,  and  worthy,  like  herself.  The  programme 
was  as  follows:  At  one  o'clock,  congratulations  in  the 
summer-house;  at  two,  dinner  for  the  poor;  at  three,  a 
few  old  friends  invited  for  the  evening,  to  enjoy  some 
old  Hungarian  wine  and  a  little  display  of  fire-works; 
and  lastly,  as  a  festival  gift,  the  return  of  the  eldest 
daughter  and  son,  which  surprise  the  countess  had 
requested  purposely  for  this  very  day. 

Count  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold  was  sitting  in  the 
decorated  summer-house,  and  in  his  garlanded  arm 
chair.  He  had  grown  old.  His  once  tall,  erect  figure 
was  bowed,  his  dark  hair  had  turned  gray,  his  glance 
was  feebler,  his  countenance  paler.  But  there  was  still 
enough  left  of  the  once  stately  man  fully  to  sustain  his 
reputation  as  the  chief  magnate  of  the  region.  His 
bearing  was,  as  ever,  noble  and  gentle,  and  every  time 
his  glance  fell  on  his  wife,  a  brightening  was  seen 
which  unmistakably  disclosed  how  dearly  he  loved  her, 
and  how  she  had  become  the  whole  happiness  of  his 
life. 

The  summer-house  was  divided  by  green  boughs 
into  two  parts,  and  the  inner  one,  which  formed  a  kind 
of  bower,  was  in  the  beginning  concealed.  But  scarcely 
had  the  count  sat  down,  before  the  foliage  in  the  mid- 
dle was  thrust  aside,  and  within  stood  his  eldest  daugh- 
ter, Baroness  Louise,  in  the  former  costume  of  her 
grandmother,  the  Countess  Eva,  as  court-lady  to  Prin- 
cess Ulrica  Eleanora.     The  illusion  was  all  the  more 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


perfect  from  the  fact  that  the  baroness  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  her  grandmother  when  young;  and  in 
order  still  more  to  revive  the  memory  of  that  mother 
to  whom  the  count  had  been  so  tenderly  attached,  a 
very  natural  life-size  portrait  of  Countess  Eva,  in  the 
same  costume  and  garlanded  with  roses,  adorned  the 
background  of  the  improvised  bower. 

A  simple  little  congratulation  in  verse  now  fol- 
lowed, in  which  the  deceased  declared  herself  to  have 
received  permission  once  more  to  descend  from  her 
glorious  heaven,  to  invoke  blessing  upon  her  beloved 
son,  and  the  happiness  of  his  declining  years.  There 
were  only  eight  lines,  but  they  were  recited  particularly 
well.  A  deceased  mother,  blessing  her  son  in  his 
daughter's  form,  and  in  his  wife's  presence, — this  was 
so  beautiful  and  touching  a  thought,  it  was  so  gathered 
into  an  image  of  everything  that  in  life  is  precious  to  a 
human  heart,  that  the  object  of  this  simple  homage 
melted  into  tears.  The  count,  who  had  been  ignorant 
of  the  baroness'  arrival  late  last  evening,  with  the  ten- 
derest  surprise  arose.  He  embraced  and  kissed  now 
his  daughter  and  now  his  wife,  who  for  him  had 
brought  about  this  happy  event,  and  afterwards  he  did 
not  weary  of  contemplating  the  two  portraits  of  his 
mother,  the  painted  and  the  living,  while  he  com- 
pared the  two,  and  felt  his  warm  heart  overflowing  with 
memories  and  with  love.  The  purest  blessedness  was 
reflected  in  his  face.  In  his  happiness  nothing  was 
lacking — nothing  but  the  presence  of  the  two  sons. 

"  Will  your  grace  buy  some  cranberries  ?  We  have 
nothing  else  this  time  of  year,"  piped  a  childlike  voice 
beside  him,  and  there  stood  little  Vera,  garnished  with 
garlands  from  top  to  toe.  Not  cranberries,  however, 
but  rare  grapes,  were  what  she  offered,  they  having 
been  conjured  forth  in  the  hot-house  by  Bergflygt,  who 
had  the  whole  winter  been  getting  them  ready  for  this 
occasion,  and  was  not  a  little  proud  of  his  triumph. 

The  father  lifted  the  little  rogue  in  his  arms,  and 


EVENING  STORMS.  23 

covered  her  with  kisses.  She  too!  There  was  not  a 
cloud  in  his  sky;  but  one  was  approaching — a  little, 
floating  cloud,  which  quickly  vanished. 

"  Will  you  not  offer  berries  to  your  sister  ? "  asked 
the  mother. 

Vera  went  to  the  baroness,  made  a  low  courtesy,  a 
little  mockingly,  perhaps,  and  said:  "  May  it  please  you, 
madame  ? " 

The  countess  flushed,  but  the  baroness  did  not 
understand  the  thrust.  She  too  was  warm  of  heart, 
from  her  father's  happiness,  and  replied:  "  You  little 
forest  fairy!  It  must  be  a  rare  forest  which  brings  forth 
such  cranberries!  " 

"My  forest  is  gilded,  like  those  they  have  at  court," 
replied  Vera,  with  a  toss  of  her  haughty  head. 

Louise  drew  her  caressingly  to  her,  and  began  to 
arrange  her  wild  festoons  of  ten  different  kinds  of 
leaves.  It  looked  as  though  a  confidential  acquain- 
tance was  to  arise  between  the  two  sisters.  But  the 
watchful  eye  of  the  countess  observed  that  Vera  pur- 
posely disarranged  the  beautiful  festoons  with  which 
the  baroness  was  draping  her  white  clothes.  There  was 
something  wrong,  but  no  eye  except  the  mother's  ob- 
served it. 

Thus,  peaceful  and  glad,  passed  the  afternoon. 
The  company  made  an  excursion  in  the  park,  and 
the  count  praised  everything  he  saw.  Bergfl3^gt  received 
honorable  mention  for  the  new  plantings  and  the 
choice  grapes.  Louise  was  complimented  for  her 
tasteful  toilet, — and  she  deserved  it  too,  for  with  her 
the  toilet  was  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance. 
Seldom  had  so  elegant  a  lady  of  the  world,  so  captivat- 
ing a  twenty-four-year-old  baroness,  waved  her  fan  in 
Falkby  Park. 

In  the  relation  between  daughter  and  stepmother, 
no  one  could  discover  anything  but  friendship  and  con- 
fidence. The  countess  on  her  part  did  everything  to 
meet  her  daughter  half  way,  and  she  seemed  to  sue- 


24  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

cccd.  There  was  merriment,  and  there  was  the  ex- 
change of  those  httli;  attentions  wliich  make  intercourse 
ai;reeable.  0\\\s  one  Httle  atom  of  love  was  still  lack- 
injj  to  make  everything  as  it  should  be. 

The  day  was  glorious  and  sunny.  A  long  table  for 
the  poor  was  spread  in  the  park,  and  the  place  of  honor 
occupied  by  the  octogenarian  widow  of  the  soldier 
Flinta,  she  who  in  such  a  peculiar  manner  had  been 
connected  with  the  fate  of  President  Iiertelskold, — 
she  with  whom  Countess  Esther,  fleeing,  desperate,  and 
benumbed  with  cold,  had  once  found  shelter  in  the 
cold  winter  night.  Lady  Vera  said  grace,  and  the  count- 
ess herself  \vent  from  place  to  place,  from  one  poor 
person  to  another,  to  make  sure  that  all  received  an 
abundance  of  what  they  needed.  For  each  she  had  a 
friendly  and  encouraging  word,  and  most  of  them  knew 
her  of  old,  for  she  had  very  often  visited  them  in  their 
cottages,  and  been  a  comforting  angel  to  them  in  their 
distress.  Grateful  looks,  therefore,  also  met  her 
wherever  she  went.  When  she  came  to  Flinta,  the  old 
woman  was  about  to  do  as  was  usual  on  the  large 
estates, — stoop  down  and  kiss  the  countess's  garments. 
But  the  countess  was  not  one  who  would  allow  such  a 
degrading  demonstration  of  deference.  She  obliged 
the  old  woman  to  be  seated,  herself  placed  before  her 
the  delicious  pease-porridge,  and  whispered  in  her  ear: 
"  Do  you  then  want  me  to  tell,  in  the  presence  of  all. 
how  I  was  once  hungry  and  you  gave  me  meat,  how  I 
was  cold  and  you  warmed  me,  how  I  was  unhappy  and 
you  comforted  me  ?  You  must  of  course  allow  me  to 
recompense  like  with  like,  as  well  as  I  am  able." 

Tears  ran  down  the  old  woman's  withered  cheeks. 
She  tried  to  speak,  but  could  only  stammer  forth  : 
"  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy." 

To  Baroness  Louise,  this  was  not  altogether  un- 
usual, for  she  had  witnessed  such  scenes  before.  But 
the  short,  wide,  flowing  sleeves  of  her  silken  clothing 
did  not  allow  her  to  touch  the  great  dishes,  or  approach 


EVENING  STORMS.  25 

the  shabby  guests  of  the  table.  She  made  one  fleeting 
round,  at  a  proper  distance,  and  then  went  to  cast 
another  longing  look  toward  the  gate  at  the  highway. 

The  count  and  countess  were  ju.st  about  to  return 
to  the  castle,  to  partake  of  their  noonday  meal,  when  a 
cloud  of  dust  was  seen  on  the  highway.  The  gate 
opened,  and  in  dashed  first  a  courier  on  horseback,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  a  magnificent  carriage  drawn  by 
four  horses.  In  this  carriage  sat  an  elegant  young 
gentleman,  beside  an  old  army  officer. 

All  hastened  to  the  steps,  and  Count  Bertelskold 
himself  went  to  receive  his  long  absent,  and  now  so 
unexpectedly  returned,  eldest  son.  His  fatherly  heart 
beat  with  pride  and  delight.  This  meeting  was  the 
crowning  joy  of  that  festive  day. 

Lightly,  but  with  much  dignity,  Count  Bernhard 
leaped  out  of  the  carriage,  and  fell  into  his  father's 
arms — also  with  much  dignity.  The  young  gentleman 
had  come  from  Spain,  but  it  would  be  unjust  to  him  to 
regard  him  on  that  account  as  a  Spanish  grandee,  who 
cannot  possibly  forget  the  ceremonious  demands  of 
etiquette,  even  when  after  a  four  years'  absence  he 
embraces  a  father.  Count  Bernhard  was  only  a  com- 
plete courtier  and  man  of  the  world,  who  from  his 
early  childhood  had  been  page  to  Prince  Gustaf,  and 
had  continually  afterward,  first  as  gentleman  of  the 
bed-chamber,  and  later  as  diplomat,  been  in  contact 
with  many  courts  and  the  most  select  circles  of  society. 
His  aristocratic  bearing  was  therefore  as  unconstrained 
as  second  nature  ;  his  ceremonious  dignity  so  easy,  his 
courtesy  so  captivating,  that,  upon  any  other  occasion 
whatever,  the  lack  of  that  warmth  and  affection  to  be 
expected  at  such  a  meeting  would  scarcely  have  been 
observed.  His  father  neither  observed  that,  nor  could 
he,  in  his  delight,  sufficiently  rejoice  his  eyes  with  the 
sight  of  that  brilliant,  hopeful  son  who  was  to  do  honor 
to  his  name,  cheer  his  old  age,  and  some  day  ascend  to 
the  highest  positions  of  honor. 
2 


20  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

For  the  yoiinjj  count  had  all  those  qualities  which 
promise  success  in  the  world.  A  more  attractive  young 
man,  of  more  striking  appearance,  Sweden  did  not 
possess.  He  was  tall,  like  all  his  family  ;  handsome, 
masculine,  proud,  knightly,  intelligent  and  experienced. 
\\'herever  he  made  his  appearance,  he  was  regarded  as 
a  superior  character;  and  from  the  hour  when  he  arrived 
at  Falkby,  he  was  its  acknowledged  lord. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

STEP-iMOTHER  AND     STEP-SON. 

THERE  are  opposites  in  life  which  are  conscious 
of  being  drawn  to  each  other,  as  by  a  kind  of 
natural  necessity  ;  and  there  are  resemblances  which 
quite  as  necessarily  must  repel  each  other.  The  reason 
is,  that  no  human  being  is  complete,  is  alone  sufficient 
in  and  for  himself.  Each  needs  to  supply  a  deficiency 
in  himself,  but  two  equally  strong  characters  are  con- 
tinually clashing  like  steel  and  flint. 

Both  Countess  Esther  and  her  step-son,  Count  Bern- 
hard,  were  persons  of  great  pride,  strength  and  firmness 
of  character.  This  was  their  resemblance,  and  the 
cause  of  their  enmity — for  that  this  existed,  it  was  not 
difficult  to  guess.  In  this  respect,  neither  required  a 
complement,  and  therefore,  when  they  met,  it  was  with 
the  repellence  of  two  hard  substances. 

But  the  steel  which  rung  in  the  character  of  Countess 
Esther  was  much  more  refined.  It  did  not  appear  in 
sharp  angles  ;  it  could  be  bent,  and,  like  the  spring  of 
the  watch,  immediately  resume  its  natural  form.  Shift- 
ing scenes,  a  rich  experience,  a  loving  heart,  had  taught 
that  strong  soul  humility,  renunciation,  sacrifice.  The 
steel  lay  hidden,  but  when  it  was  touched  it  still  rung, 


EVENING  STORMS.  27 

and,  like  the  tuning-fork,  sounded  the  key-note  of  her 
being. 

With  Count  Bernhard,  the  metal  was  finely  polished, 
and  shone  like  silver.  But  that  smooth  surface  was 
brittle  as  quartz.  Yielding  and  renunciation  were  arts 
which,  in  court  drawing-rooms  and  the  slippery  sinu- 
osities of  diplomacy,  his  tongue,  but  never  his  heart, 
had  learned.  So  long  as  everything  bowed  before  his 
will,  he  could  be  good,  amiable  and  affectionate  ;  but 
every  independent  character  was  his  natural  enemy. 
And  such  a  one  he  met  in  his  step-mother.  Countess 
Esther  could  sacrifice  everything  except  her  conviction 
of  right.  She  could  humble,  but  never  humiliate  her- 
self.    They  were  thus  compelled  to  be  enemies. 

Though  forced  to  coquette  with  the  plebeian  estates, 
the  nobility  of  the  time  of  liberty  was  scarcely  less 
proud  than  had  formerly  been  that  of  Queen  Christina. 
The  marriage  of  a  count  with  a  burgher's  daughter  was 
indeed  no  longer  a  thing  unheard  of,  or  forbidden  by 
law  ;  but  still  it  continued  to  be  a  dark  stain  on  a  bril- 
liant ancestral  tree.  This  daughter  of  a  burgher,  this 
Finnish  troll,  had  muddied  the  noble  blood  of  the 
family,  had  crowded  herself  between  father  and  son, 
had  brought  into  the  castle  two  new  heirs,  who,  by  half 
of  their  extraction,  must  be  foreign  to  the  full-blooded 
race.  For  less  than  this,  might  a  young  man  hate  his 
step-mother.  And  nothing, — no  tenderness,  no  hu- 
mility, no  attempt  to  win  his  affection, — had  been  able 
to  efface  that  hatred,  which,  for  nineteen  years,  ever 
since  his  childhood,  had  been  growing  in  the  young 
count's  soul,  toward  the  base-born  new-comer  in  his 
noble  house. 

Now,  after  four  years'  separation,  they  met  again, 
and  everything  as  yet  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  sun- 
shine. Count  Bernhard  kissed  his  step-mother's  hand, 
and  she  welcomed  him  with  friendly  words.  Perhaps 
she  still  hoped  that  four  years'  rioened  experience  had 
succeeded  in  effacing  those  former  impressions. 


28  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

The  dinner  and  the  afternoon  passed  away  in  un- 
disturhctl  harmony.  Count  Bernhard  so  wittily  and  so 
charminijly  told  about  the  strange  lands  and  foreign 
courts  which  he  had  visited  during  his  absence,  that  his 
father  was  delighted.  Baroness  Louise  had  never  been 
in  a  more  brilliant  mood,  and  in  wit  and  amiability  vied 
with  her  brother.  Little  Vera  was  caressed,  and  half- 
conquered.  Even  the  countess  for  a  moment  forgot 
her  fears,  and  joined  in  the  homage  of  all  toward  the 
distinguished  and  admired  son  of  the  house. 

The  company  was  augmented  by  a  few  neighboring 
old  friends.  The  officer  who  had  accompanied  Count 
Bernhard  in  the  carriage,  and  who  was  no  other  than 
Major  Lejonram,  the  old  gambler  who  thirty  years  ago 
had  been  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold's  second  at  the 
duel  in  the  Spanish  inn  in  the  suburbs  of  Stockholm, 
laid  claim  to  old  acquaintance,  and  offered  the  countess 
his  arm,  while  they  made  a  promenade  in  the  park. 

"  You  live  here  like  a  queen,  my  most  gracious 
countess,"  said  Lejonram.  "  The  Turks  take  me,  but 
I  would  like  to  own  your  Falkby,  only  to  be  able  to  lay 
it  at  your  feet  as  a  tribute  of  my  esteem.  Unfortunately, 
I  have  always  had  good  luck  at  raffling,  but  bad  luck 
in  love.  My  friend  Charles  has  continually  been  before- 
hand with  me.  He  has  Falkby,  he  has  you  !  Military 
contrivances  always  were  his  forte,  and  so  he  has 
founded  an  herbescent  fortress  to  guard  his  treasure. 
A  cursed  pretty  park  !  Here  nothing  is  lacking  for  old 
hunters  but  a  roe-buck  !" 

"  If  my  uncle  finds  so  much  pleasure  in  these 
wretched  tree-trunks,  which  resemble  a  crowd  of  peas- 
ants around  a  pulpit,  it  would  probably  not  be  impos- 
sible to  improvise  a  roe-buck,"  said  Count  Bernhard, 
in  a  careless  tone,  as  he  walked  immediately  behind 
them,  with  his  sister  Louise  on  his  arm.  "  Jose  !"  he 
added,  to  his  Spanish  valet,  who  was  following  with  his 
cloak,  "  bring  me  my  fowling-piece." 

Jose  bounded  off,  and  in  three  minutes  was  back. 


EVENING   STORMS.  29 

They  had  by  this  time  approached  the  enclosure  of  the 
park,  outside  of  which  a  few  sheep,  in  their  innocence, 
were  grazing  in  the  pasture. 

"  Behold  the  consequences  of  listening  to  Spanish 
romances  !  "  said  the  father  jestingly.  "  Bernhard  sees 
roe-bucks  where  we  others  cannot  discover  anything 
but  sheep." 

"  Have  the  kindness,  my  dear  major  !  "  said  the 
young  count,  reaching  him  the  gun.  "  You  there  see 
our  game.  It  compares  perfectly  with  the  park.  I  beg 
you  try  your  luck  !  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  replied  Lejonram.  "  That  is  more 
suitable  for  boys.  You  can  try  yourself,  my  fine  sir ! 
That  is  if  your  gracious  mistress  mother  will  allow 
it." 

"  My  gracious  mistress  mother  is  always  too  gra- 
cious to  deny  us  an  innocent  pleasure,"  responded 
Count  Bernhard,  who  was  probably  irritated  by  Lejon- 
ram's  politeness  to  his  mother,  and  purposely  sought  an 
opportunity  to  show  his  superiority.  At  the  same  time, 
he  grasped  the  gun  and  took  sight. 

The  countess  flushed,  and  remained  silent;  but  Vera 
ran  forward  with  a  cry  of  terror. 

"  That  is  my  Bijou  ! "  she  shrieked,  as  she  seized 
her  brother  violently  by  the  arm. 

Bijou  was  the  prettiest  and  most  hopeful  progeny  of 
the  barn-yard,  white  as  cotton,  given  to  Vera  two 
weeks  before,  and  the  object  of  her  liveliest  admiration. 

"  Let  it  be  !  "  exclaimed  the  father,  but  it  was  too 
late.  The  shot  cracked,  and  little  Bijou,  which  had 
not  suspected  any  evil,  made  a  high  leap,  and  fell  down 
bleeding  on  the  green  grass. 

^^  Fi  done!  "  S3.\6.  Lejonram;  ''you  might  have  left 
that  to  the  butcher  !  " 

"  Bah  !  "  responded  Count  Bernhard,  in  his  light 
tone,  but  himself  nonplussed  by  his  rashness.  "You 
ought  to  see  a  bull-fight,  uncle  !  " 

Vera  was  beside  herself.     She  was  carrying  a  hazel 


30  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

whip  in  her  hand,  and  she  struck  her  brotlier  across  the 
arm. 

"  Your  chui.i^hter,  niadame,  is  not  well  brought  up." 
said  Count  Bernhard  cahiilv,  as  he  shook  off  the  furious 
child. 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  countess  flashed.  She  very 
well  understood  for  whom  the  young  count's  ball  was 
really  intended.  But  she  controlled  herself,  and, 
without  a  word  in  reply,  had  the  weeping  girl  taken 
away. 

Count  Charles  Victor  was  also  displeased  with  this 
evil  act,  and  tried  to  explain  everything  as  a  jest.  He 
was  not  successful,  and,  in  a  discordant  mood,  the 
promenaders  arrived  at  the  summer-house.  Here 
stood  Bergflygt,  cap  in  hand,  with  the  secret  hope  of 
enjoying  a  new  triumph  for  his  successful  arrange- 
ments. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Count  Bernhard,  disdainfully,  "  is  it 
you,  Bergflygt  ?  What  kind  of  trash  have  you  been 
stuffing  in  here,  all  by  yourself?  Know,  my  dear 
friend,  you  would  do  well  to  stick  to  turnips  and  car- 
rots, for  3-ou  have  utterly  bungled  the  park  out  of  ex- 
istence since  I  went  away,  and  this  little  obstacle  here, 
you  know,  looks  like  a  hen-house.  Where,  in  heaven's 
name,  did  you  light  upon  such  a  ridiculous  idea  as  to 
stick  up  leaves  on  the  walls  ?  Why,  it  resembles  a 
name's-day  celebration  at  an  inn-parlor." 

"  It  is  all  the  command  of  her  grace,"  replied  the 
gardener,  hurt  to  the  very  core  by  this  unexpected 
compliment. 

"  Her  grace  is  certainly  enormously  ingenious,  and 
worthy  so  zealous  a  servant,"  responded  the  count  in 
the  same  tone;  "but  that  will  not  prevent  your  clear- 
ing away  all  this  finery  to-morrow.  Besides,  you  are 
old  and  fussy,  my  friend  ;  you  will  soon  require  a  suc- 
cessor, do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  deeply  wounded  man, 
"  and  I  shall  not  wait  for  my  dismissal,  I  shall  ask  it. 


EVENING   STORMS.  31 

I  have  faithfully  served  their  graces,  the  count  and 
countess,  for  thirty-five  years,  and  no  one  has  ever  yet 
called  me  a  bungler  at  my  business." 

"  Really  ?  Well,  since  there  must  be  a  first  time, 
allow  me  to  do  you  that  justice." 

"  Stop.  Your  mother  and  I  think  a  great  deal 
of  that  honest  fellow,"  impatiently  interposed  Count 
Charles  Victor,  in  French. 

"  You,  father  ?  That  is  another  matter.  Then  I 
shall  pardon  the  poor  fool.  He  has  many  merits.  I 
believe  he  has  been  betrothed  to  you,  madame  !  " 

The  last  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone  so  low  that 
only  the  countess  heard  them;  but  she  had  heard 
enough. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LIGHTNING    IN    THE    THUNDER-CLOUD. 

THERE  is  no  victory  so  difficult,  no  supremacy  so 
costly,  as  the  victory  and  supremacy  over  self. 
An  insulted  man  can  kill  his  antagonist,  an  irritated 
woman  can  thrust  him  through  with  words  sharper 
than  daggers;  but  to  keep  still,  keep  still  with  a  wounded 
heart,  silent  and  weaponless,  that  is  more  than  any  man 
and  more  than  most  women  can  do. 

Countess  Esther  remained  silent. 

It  was  a  glorious  June  evening.  The  dew  was 
falling,  the  grass  glittering,  the  cuckoo  singing,  and 
the  young  leaves  in  the  park  were  resplendent  with 
beauty.  The  sea  was  quite  near,  and  lay  like  molten 
silver  in  the  glow  of  evening.  An  expedition  by  boat 
was  now  undertaken. 

Count  Bernhard  when  a  boy,  had  owned  a  sail-boat 
called  "The  Dolphin,"  which  he  had  loved  almost  as 
dearly  as  his  horse.     For  many  years  past,  the  Dolphin 


3'i  TIMES  OF  AT.CriEMY. 

had  lain  drawn  up  into  the  boat-house,  hidden  and  for- 
gotten; but  the  countess,  to  give  her  step-son  a  pleas- 
ure, had  had  the  old  sloop  put  in  order  and  repainted. 
It  was  now  lying  at  the  shore,  prettier  than  ever,  its 
pennant  fluttering  in  the  gentle  breeze,  and  its  mast 
twined  about  with  flowers. 

"  The  Dolphin  begs  the  honor  of  once  more  bear- 
ing her  master  across  the  sea,"  said  the  countess,  as 
merrily  as  if  never  an  unfriendly  word  had  disturbed 
her  heart's  peace. 

Count  Bernhard  fixed  on  his  step-mother  a  pair  of 
astonished  eyes,  looked  at  the  sloop,  looked  again  at 
the  countess,  and  calmly  replied:  "Why,  that  is  no 
boat, — that  is  a  peasant  bride  !  " 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  father,  "  do  you  not  rec- 
ognize your  old  Dolphin  ?  Well,  I  admit  that  the 
Doge  of  Venice  may  possibly  travel  more  splendidly 
in  his  gilded  galley;  but  being  in  East  Gothland,  I 
think  the  Dolphin  ought  to  give  satisfaction  It  was 
your  mother,  Bernhard,  who  for  your  sake  remembered 
the  old  relic.  I  had  long  since  forgotten  that  any  such 
thing  existed." 

"  With  your  permission,  father,"  replied  the  son, 
"  I  prefer  to  take  passage  in  a  boat  of  less  finery  and 
safer  planks.  I  have  traveled  too  much  on  the  sea  to 
sail  with  flowers.  Come,  Louise  !  "  and  he  reached  his 
hand  to  his  sister,  to  board  a  larger  boat,  lying  near, 
while  the  rest  entrusted  their  lives  to  the  distrusted 
planks  of  the  Dolphin. 

The  boats  directed  their  course  to  the  widow  Flinta's 
little  cottage,  which  was  situated  on  the  other  side  of 
the  bay.  The  course  was  not  happily  chosen,  for  Count 
Bernhard,  as  long  ago  as  his  last  visit  to  Falkby,  had 
wished  to  have  the  cottage  torn  down,  in  order  to  erect 
a  shooting-box  there,  as  the  forest  in  that  region  was 
rich  in  game.  At  that  time  his  .step-mother  had  suc- 
ceeded in  saving  the  poor  widow's  shelter;  and  this, 
Count  Bernhard  had  not  forgotten. 


EVENING   STORMS.  33 

Scarcely  had  he  landed  and  seen  the  old  woman 
sitting  on  the  steps  with  her  knitting,  before  he  said  to 
his  father,  in  his  ordinary  careless  tone,  as  he  pointed 
to  the  cottage  : 

"  Next  week  we  will  have  that  torn  down,  father," 

And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  added,  as 
he  turned  to  the  old  woman: 

"You  can  get  ready  to  move  to-morrow." 

"  But  that  is  hard  on  the  old  woman.  We  will  re- 
flect on  the  matter  !  "  responded  the  father,  somewhat 
embarrassed  by  that  over-assured  tone. 

But  the  widow,  under  the  burden  of  her  eighty 
years,  was  still  a  soldier's  wife,  and  not  at  all  inclined 
to  accept  the  situation  as  decided. 

"Am  I  to  move  to-morrow?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  old  woman,  for  to-night  it  is  somewhat 
late,  and  we  will  grant  you  your  night's  rest,"  replied 
Count  Bernhard. 

"  I  move  !  I,  who  have  lived  here  more  than  forty 
years!  "  burst  out  the  old  woman.  "And  for  what  am 
I  to  move  ?  " 

"  Because  it  so  pleases  your  gracious  lord.  He 
needs  the  place." 

"  Has  he  not  forest  and  field,  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
see  ?  Is  there  not  room  for  his  grace  in  great,  wide 
Falkby,  without  driving  me  away  from  my  poor  cot- 
tage ?  " 

"  My  dear  old  woman,  you  need  exercise  ;  you  can 
walk  a  little,  and  then  you  will  sleep  better,"  mockingly 
replied  the  young  count,  who  plainly  perceived  that 
every  word  was  to  his  step-mother  a  pin-prick  in  the 
heart. 

"  Must  I  go  ?  And  where  am  I  to  go  ?  "  bewailed 
the  old  woman,  beside  herself  with  surprise. 

"  On   the   town,    my  dear  old   woman,"  jeeringly 
replied  Count  Bernhard.     "  You  have  it  too  monoto- 
nous— you  need  change." 
C 


34  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  I  go  on  the  town,"  and  the  inconsolable  old 
woman  wrung  her  hands. 

Count  Charles  Victor  blushed  for  the  heartlessness 
of  his  son.  He  secretly  resolved  to  let  the  widow 
remain,  but  meantime  joined  the  rest  of  the  company 
in  order  not  to  allow  any  new  discord  to  disturb  the 
comfort  of  the  evening.  The  countess  alone  had 
heard  the  last  mocking  words. 

She  now  advanced,  took  the  old  woman  kindly  by 
the  hand,  and  said:  "  Do  you  not  see  that  the  young 
count  wants  to  frighten  you  merely  for  amusement  ? 
No,  my  dear  old  woman,  you  shall  never  need  to  go 
on  the  town,  nor  shall  you  move  from  your  humble 
cottage  as  long  as  you  live." 

"Do  you  believe  that,  madame?"  said  Count 
Bernhard,  incisively. 

"  I  am  very  sure  of  it,"  calmly  replied  the  countess. 

"  Nous  verrons  ;  we  shall  see." 

"  I  shall  never  see  that,  nor  you  either.  You  can- 
not be  in  earnest." 

"  If  I  never  have  been  in  earnest,  be  assured  I 
shall  be  now,"  responded  the  young  count,  as  he 
lowered  his  voice  even  to  a  whisper.  "  You  have  so 
long  been  ruler  at  Falkb}',  madame,  that  you  have 
altogether  forgotten  your  real  position.  You  ought, 
nevertheless,  to  remember  w//(?ji'^«  have  been  and  lu/io 
you  are,  madame.  You  blanch  ?  So  much  the  better. 
If  it  should  trouble  you  to  be  so  claimless,  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  remind  you  of  it.  I  protest  that,  for  my 
father's  sake,  I  do  it  very  unwillingly  ;  but  you  should 
remember  that  a  person  like  you  ought  never,  in  your 
place,  to  esteem  herself  for  more  than  her  birth  will 
bear." 

Countess  Esther  really  had  turned  pale,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  She  immediately  regained  that  admir- 
able composure  which  had  so  many  times  rescued  her 
in  her  eventful  life.  She  looked  her  antagonist  fixedly 
in  the  eye,  and  calmly  replied  : 


I 


EVENING   STORMS.  35 

"  If  I  blanched,  it  was  because  I  now  see  clearly 
the  calamity  I  have  so  long  guessed,  and  which  is  to 
embitter  the  life  of  a  whole  family.  Bernhard,  my 
friend,  my  son, — for  thus,  against  your  will,  I  must 
still  call  you — has  it  then  really  gone  so  far,  that  no 
respect  for  your  father,  no  sympathy  for  his  happiness 
or  love  for  your  younger  brother  and  sister,  can  efface 
from  your  heart  that  hatred  which  I  have  not  deserved  ? 
You  very  well  know  that  it  was  not  I  who  crowded  my- 
self into  this  family.  You  ought  also  to  know  that  I 
never  have  done,  and  never  shall  do,  any  dishonor  to 
your  house.  Why,  then,  will  you  rend  this  bond  which  to 
you  ought  to  be  sacred  ?  Why  will  you  hate  me,  who 
have  never  shown  you  anything  but  love  ?  Why  do 
you  speak  thus  to  me,  whom  you  cannot  insult  without 
insulting  your  father? " 

"  You  talk  like  a  book,  madame,"  responded  Count 
Bernhard,  "  but  you  once  more  forget  that  the  ques- 
tion is  not  as  to  your  rank,  but  as  to  your  poiver.  Of 
course  I  am  willing  to  grant  you  all  rights, — I  kiss  your 
hand  ;  you  shall  be  called  your  grace;  and  it  ought  to 
flatter  you,  1  think,  for  you  were  once  satisfied  with 
less.  You  have  your  happy  position,  need  have  no 
care  for  anything  but  to  amuse  yourself,  dress,  listen 
to  compliments,  and  be  idolized  by  my  father,  who 
really  is  so  fond  of  you  that  he  has  become  half 
plebeian.  In  a  word,  I  think  you  ought  to  content 
yourself  with  that,  and  not  try  to  rule  in  a  house  where 
you  have  once  been  chamber-maid.  If  my  father  is 
weak,  madame,  you  ought  to  understand  that  I  am  by 
no  means  so  compliant.  You  ought  to  call  to  mind, 
from  some  reading-book  for  children,  which  you  have 
perhaps  studied  in  Vasa,  the  well-known  words  of  Gus- 
tavus  Vasa,  that  '  there  is  not  room  for  your  grace  and 
my  grace  under  the  same  roof.'  Be  modest,  madame  ; 
it  would  be  indescribably  becoming  to  you,  and  I  do 
not  see  what  should  hinder  our  afterward  associating 
as  friends.     Why  should   I   hate  you  ?     People  hate 


3t-,  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

only  their  equals.  The  rest — they  shake  off,  when 
they  become  too  presumptuous." 

Sorrowfully  the  countess  smiled. 

"  That  is  enough.  I  have  already  heard  more  than 
I  ought  to  hear.  I  cannot  answer  you  here,  but  we 
must  come  to  an  understanding — and  we  must  do  so 
soon." 

"  God  save  Carolus  !  "  was  at  that  moment  heard 
from  the  shore,  in  the  somewhat  tipsy  voice  of  Lejon- 
ram.  and  the  friends  emptied  a  glass  of  Hungarian 
wine  to  the  birthday  of  the  host. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    FAREWELL. 

THE  sun  had  set,  the  little  fireworks  had  been 
displayed  on  the  lawn,  the  guests,  after  a 
cheery  evening,  scattered,  and  no  one  surmised  the 
dark  cloud  which  had  gathered  over  the  happiness  of 
the  family — no  one  except  those  two  whom  it  most 
nearly  touched,  and  even  of  them  only  one  knew  how 
to  estimate  its  whole  significance. 

When  they  were  alone,  Couatess  Esther  took  her 
hnsband's  hand  and  said:  "  I  have  a  request  to  make 
of  you  !  " 

"  What  can  you  ask  that  I  am  not  immediately 
glad  to  grant  ?  "  inquired  the  count. 

"A  renunciation,"  shr,  replied. 

"  I  consent  unconditionally.  For  your  sake,  I  can 
renounce  everything  except  yourself." 

"  But  suppose,  now,  that  I  was  to  ask  that  very 
thing  of  you  ?  " 

The  count  regarded  her  with  an  upbraiding  look. 

•'  That  you  can  never  ask,"  he  replied. 


EVENING  STORMS.  37 

For  a  long  time  she  was  silent.  Her  heart  was  too 
full. 

"  Would  you  miss  me  much  if  I — for  example, 
made  a  long  journey  ? "  she  at  length  asked. 

"That  is  impossible.  Why  should  you  make  a 
journey  ?" 

"  I  might  have  an  important  reason,  you  know.  For 
example,  if  it  concerned  the  happiness  of  us  all  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens  !  Are  you  sick  ?  If  you  need  to 
use  the  baths  at  Spaa  or  Pyrmont,  only  say  the  word 
and  I  will  go  with  you  !  " 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness;  I  am  perfectly  well. 
But  suppose  that  nevertheless  I  must  leave  you  for  a 
while.  Will  you  promise  me  to  bear  this  pain  with 
calmness  ?     We  shall  see  each  other  again,  you  know  !" 

"  But,  my  darling,  I  do  not  understand  you  !  " 
exclaimed  the  count,  seriously  disturbed. 

"  Next  to  yourself,  it  is  Vera's  training  which  gives 
me  most  anxiety,"  continued  the  countess,  without 
appearing  to  observe  the  cloud  which  lay  on  the  brow 
of  her  husband.  "  I  would  not  like  to  leave  her  to 
Louise.  Louise  is  fond  of  her,  I  am  convinced  of  that; 
but  we  view  the  world  very  differently.  It  is  my 
desire  that  Vera  shall  be  brought  up  in  unostentatious 
seriousness,  in  simple  manners,  in  unfeigned  piety.  So 
I  have  been  thinking  that  we  ought  to  choose  her  a 
governess  to  our  minds.  What  do  you  say  of  Lady 
Sjoblad  ?  She  is  a  poor  but  well-bred  girl,  over  twenty 
years  of  age,  of  birth  sufficient  to  be  able  to  appear  in 
your  drawing-room,  but  plain,  good,  sensible  and  pious. 
Her  mother,  I  recollect,  was  from  the  common  people. 
Shall  we  write  to  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Do  as  you  wish;  I  have  nothing  against  it.  Your 
eyes,  my  Esther,  see  more  clearly  than  mine,  and  I 
have  always  done  well  by  following  your  counsel.  But, 
for  heaven's  sake,  explain  what  you  really  mean  by 
these  dark  questions." 

"  To-morrow  you  shall  find  out.     And  now,  good- 


3S  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

night,  you  the  beloved  of  my  youth,  the  friend  of  my 
life  !     Do  you  love  me  yet,  my  Charles  ?  " 

"  I  ought  to  punish  you  for  such  a  question  by 
answering  you — no  !  " 

"  Yes,  you  love  me  !  Then  do  not  be  angry  at 
your  wife  if  she  sometime  gives  you  sorrow.  God,  the 
Omniscient,  knows  that  I  would  a  hundred  times  buy 
your  happiness  with  the  sacrifice  of  my  own.  Good- 
night !  Remember  my  request  concerning  Vera ! 
Be  a  father  to  our  Paul,  for  he  needs  love  in  life  ! 
And  keep  me  always  in  dear  remembrance,  my 
Charles  !  " 

Unable  longer  to  control  herself,  at  these  words  she 
leaned  against  her  husband's  shoulder,  kissed  his  gray 
hair,  and  bathed  his  cheeks  with  her  tears.  Deeply 
moved,  he  folded  her  in  his  arms.  His  eyes  were  also 
moistened,  he  knew  not  why. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  let  you  go,  before  you 
have  confided  to  me  that  which  so  affects  you.  Tell  it 
to  me  !  " 

"  Do  not  ask  me  now.  Everything,  everything, 
you  know,  is  to  be  made  clear,  and  I  have  promised 
that  in  the  morning  you  shall  know  it,"  replied  the 
countess,  as  she  hastily  wiped  away  her  tears,  and 
showed  him  a  calm,  almost  smiling  countenance,  beam- 
ing with  affection.  Never  in  the  stateliest  beauty  of 
her  youth  had  she  been  more  beautiful  than  now. 

"  Good-night !  "  she  once  more  whispered;  and,  as 
though  fearful  of  her  own  tenderness  if  she  lingered 
longer,  hurried  away. 

She  went  to  her  daughter's  sleeping-room.  Vera, 
in  her  pretty  little  bed  of  walnut,  with  red  curtains, 
was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  innocence.  The  mother 
stooped  above  the  sleeping  child  and  pressed  upon  her 
lip>s  a  burning  kiss. 

"  What  am  I  about  to  do  ?  "  she  moaned,  wringing 
her  hands.  "  How  is  it  possible,  how  is  it  possible  to 
abandon  you,  my  child,  whom  God  Almighty  has  given 


EVENING  STORMS.  39 

me  to  cherish  and  answer  for  ?  And  yet  it  must  be, 
though  my  heart  break.  But  give  me  a  sign,  my  God, 
give  me  a  sign  that  I  am  not  acting  wrongly,  and  with- 
out hesitation  I  will  submit  to  thy  will  !  " 

Breathless  and  anxious  she  waited,  waited  long. 
There  was  no  sound  save  the  gentle  breathing  of  the 
sleeping  child,  which  like  a  sweet  whisper  broke  the 
silence  of  the  room.  Then  the  lips  of  the  little  one 
moved,  and,  sorrowing  still  in  her  dreams,  she  said: 
"  My  Bijou  !  " 

The  mother's  countenance  brightened.  "  Thank 
you,  protecting  angel  of  my  child  !  "  she  softly  added. 
"  I  now  understand  you.  That  ball  which  was  aimed 
at  your  mother's  heart  shall  no  more,  as  to-day,  slay 
your  innocent  joy.  Farewell !  God's  holy  angels  bless 
and  guard  you,  my  beloved  child  !  " 

With  that  silent  prayer,  she  softly  stole  away  and 
shut  herself  into  her  own  room,  there  still  to  "  counsel 
with  her  Lord  and  God,"  as  she  had  of  old  learned 
from  her  pious  sister  Veronica,  now  long  since  de- 
ceased. 

It  was  from  Veronica  that  Vera  had  been  named, 
though  that  name  had  been  somewhat  shortened. 

Count  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold  spent  a  sleepless, 
restless  night.  In  his  wife  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
finding  a  trace  of  feminine  caprices.  That  strong, 
superior,  and  yet  humble  woman  had  long  ago  learned 
the  difficult  art  of  controlling  herself,  and  still  she  now 
seemed  to  be  fallen  from  her  glorious  equipoise. 
Why  ?  He  did  not  know.  In  vain  did  he  seek  to 
divine  an  explanation.  More  than  once  he  was  upon 
the  point  of  rising  from  his  bed,  hurrying  to  her,  and 
once  more  begging  her  to  confide  everything  to  him. 
But  it  was  night — she  was  asleep,  and  she  had  promised 
him  an  explanation;  ought  he  not,  with  his  patient 
waiting,  to  give  her  a  new  proof  of  his  unlimited  con- 
fidence ? 

Scarcely,  however,  had  the  early  summer  morning 


40  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

dawned,  and  the  first  step  of  the  servant  girl,  who  was 
puttinjx  the  adjoining  drawing-room  in  order  after  the 
festival  of  yesterday,  been  heard,  before  the  count 
arose  and  on  tip-toe  glided  to  his  wife's  room,  which 
was  in  the  second  story,  and  from  the  count's  room  was 
aj^proached  by  a  narrow  spiral  staircase  of  iron.  He 
found  it  empty.  The  countess's  bed  stood  untouched. 
A  bureau  drawer  was  drawn  out,  and  was  empty. 
Count  Bertelskuld's  heart  beat  quicker.  A  strange 
undefined  fear  took  possession  of  his  soul.  "  Perhaps 
she  has  gone  out  into  the  park,"  thought  he,  to  calm 
himself. 

He  looked  for  her  in  the  park.  She  was  not  there. 
Returning  to  the  castle,  he  avoided  questioning  the 
domestics  that  no  one  might  observe  his  anxiety. 
Neither  did  any  one  utter  a  word  about  the  countess. 
It  was  probably  supposed  that  she  had  gone  out  on  one 
of  those  early  morning  walks,  when  she  made  solitary 
visits  to  the  sick  and  poor.  Now,  however,  arose  in 
the  count's  memory  those  inexplicable  and  significant 
words  she  had  spoken  to  him  yesterday  when  they 
separated.  Terrible  forebodings  convulsed  his  heart. 
Pale,  but  without  disclosing  to  any  one  his  paralyzing 
fear,  he  again  sped  up  to  the  countess's  room. 

On  her  writing-table  he  now  found  a  sealed  letter, 
which  in  his  first  confusion  he  had  not  observed.  It 
was  addressed  to  him.  With  trembling  hand  he  opened 
it  and  read: 

"  My  Beloved: — Read  these  lines  with  calmness,  and  read 
them  alone !  Be  a  man,  my  Charles,  and  the  omnipotent  God, 
who  tries  us,  shall  give  you  courage  to  live  without  your  wife. 

"  You,  my  dear  Charles,  have  never  failed  to  appreciate  me, 
never  misunderstood  me.  You,  who  have  been  nothing  but  tender- 
ness and  confidence  toward  me, — for  which,  as  long  as  my  heart 
beats,  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you, — you  know  that  I  have  never 
striven  after  your  rank,  your  name,  your  wealth,  but  only  your 
love.  But  do  you  remember  what  I  once  said  to  you  in  my  father's 
garden,  when  you  asked  my  hand  ?  It  was  a  misfortune,  I  said, 
that  we  had  not  been  united  in  our  youth.  We  might  then  have 
broken  our  way  through  walls  of  ice.     Since   then,  we  have  had 


EVENING   STORMS.  41 

neither  the  power  nor  the  right  to  recreate  the  world.  Between 
us  now  stood  two  who  had  older  claims  on  you,  and  those  two 
children  were  a  world  between  us.  They  were  obliged  to  see  with 
the  eyes  of  their  age, — to  think  the  prejudices  of  their  time,  and 
therefore  I  cannot  blame  them,  or  cherish  the  least  enmity  toward 
them,  for  not  possessing  clearer  vision  and  loftier  thoughts  than  the 
whole  generation  in  which  they  lived.  I  have  honestly  tried  to 
fulfill  toward  them  a  mother's  duty.  I  had  long  hoped  that  my 
love  would  at  last  break  down  that  wall  which  the  prejudice  of 
birth  had  erected  between  us.  But  I  have  deceived  myself.  How 
should  one  weak  woman  be  able  to  change  that  world  which  so 
many  wise  thinkers  have  not  had  the  power  to  restore  to  equality 
between  man  and  man  !  Your  elder  children,  my  Charles,  must 
therefore  always  look  down  on  the  humble  woman  whom  you  have 
elevated  to  be  their  mother.  But  then  if  that  humble  mother  had 
been  able  to  give  up  all  her  own  claims  to  deference  and  forbear- 
ance, and  had  allowed  herself  to  be  trampled  in  the  dust,  she 
would  not  have  been  worthy  to  be  called  your  wife.  Her  honor  is 
yours,  and  her  own  children  shall  some  day  know  that  they  may 
not  despise  their  mother. 

"  I  have,  therefore,  my  beloved,  in  this  hard  struggle  between 
two  duties,  been  compelled  to  sacrifice  the  one.  Forgive  me, 
precious  friend,  that,  in  order  not  to  lose  your  esteem,  my  own, 
and  that  of  my  children,  I  give  you  up  !  With  me,  every  dissen- 
sion, every  discord  disappears  from  this  house.  The  humble 
burgher-daughter  returns  to  the  unobserved  place  which  she  ought 
never  to  have  abandoned,  and  shall  never  cease  to  invoke  blessing 
upon  you  and  all  your  house.  Do  not  let  the  world  into  our 
domestic  sorrows.  Say  that  I  have  gone  abroad  for  my  health. 
Neither  seek  to  spy  out  whither  I  flee;  for  my  resolve  is  fixed. 
But  I  cannot  live  without  knowing  that  I  am  still  lovingly  remem- 
bered by  you,  and  therefore  I  shall  sometimes  write  to  you  and  our 
children,  and  kiss  with  tears  the  lines  you  send  to  me.  Be  happy, 
beloved  of  my  soul !  O  that  I  could  be  your  wife  without  blush- 
ing in  the  presence  of  your  children  !  Remember  me  to  my  Paul, 
my  Vera  !  Remember  me  also  to  Bernhard  and  Louise,  and  beg 
them,  for  my  love's  sake,  to  forgive  me  all  the  sorrow  I  have  given 
you.  Esther  Larsson,  once  Countess  Bertelskold." 

"  Father,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  who  at  that  moment 
entered,  "will  you  please  come  down?  My  brother 
Paul  has  just  arrived,  together  with  his  mentor,  a  some- 
what over  -  studied  person,  who  calls  himself  Eric 
Ljung." 

"  Paul !     At  this   moment !     What  shall  I  answer 
him  when  he  asks  for  his  mother  ?" 
2* 


T/AfF.S   OF  MXlIEMY 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    SONG    OF    THE    PASTURE-GIRL. 

A  DAY  is  to  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  to 
nations  as  fifty.  Their  day  goes  by,  their  even- 
ing comes,  like  those  of  all  others.  And  some  morning, 
when  they  awake,  they  find,  with  astonishment,  every- 
thing new. 

On  the  dial-plate  of  the  time  of  liberty  in  the  North, 
the  hand  pointed  toward  the  eleventh  hour  of  the  day, 
and,  while  many  still  believed  it  standing  in  its  noon- 
day sunshine,  its  long,  stormy  day  was  nearly  past. 
Only  here  and  there  stood  a  watchman  in  some  high 
tower,  where  the  eye  was  not  obscured  by  human 
endeavor,  and,  full  of  anxious  expectation,  heeded  the 
meaning  of  the  signs. 

They  were  plain  enough  for  those  who  would  under- 
stand, and  yet  they  were  not  understood.  Not  long 
could  it  possibly  remain  as  it  now  was.  The  realm 
was  sick  with  internal  dissension,  and,  beneath  the  thin 
paint  on  the  cheeks,  the  countenance  of  Time  was  seen 
as  pale  as  death.  The  one  arm  was  wrestling  with  the 
other ;  whither  the  one  foot  wished  to  go,  the  other 
would  not.  The  one  eye  looked  and  the  one  ear  lis- 
tened toward  the  left,  while  the  other  eye  and  ear  were 
turned  toward  the  right.  Every  nerve  was  over-excited, 
but  every  muscle  was  lax  from  weariness.  Unevenly 
beat  the  heart,  and  every  evil  passion  seemed  to  have 
ascended  to  the  head  and  dimmed  the  eyes.  The 
northern  lion,  in  his  old  age,  was  transformed  to  a 
hydra,  with  five  hundred  heads  instead  of  one,  and  all 
those  heads  were  biting  and  rending  each  other. 

Why  was  all  this  t     Was  liberty  then  so  great  a  mis- 


EVENING   STORMS.  43 


fortune  that  better  days  could  dawn  only  above  its 
grave  ?  No;  liberty — true  liberty — is  the  health  and 
happiness  of  nations,  their  earthly  goal,  their  highest 
condition  of  life,  without  which  no  lasting  prosperity, 
no  true  development,  exists.  But  in  liberty  everything 
depends  on  its  moral  basis.  Build  it  upon  morality, 
and,  like  fire,  it  will  warm  and  illuminate.  Remove 
it  from  that  foundation,  and,  like  fire,  it  will  burn  and 
destroy.  Liberty  is  like  the  air,  whose  invisible  masses 
are  continually  struggling  for  equipoise.  Where  the 
equilibrium  is  disturbed,  storms  arise.  It  was  because 
liberty  had  departed  from  its  moral  foundation  that  the 
time  of  liberty  in  Sweden  and  Finland  fell,  and  at  the 
same  time  it  had  thus  insensibly  passed  beyond  its 
mark,  and  turned  to  its  opposite.  Because  the  golden 
goblet  of  the  realm,  having  been  made  to  rest  on  two 
feet,  was  balanced  on  one,  the  time  of  liberty  fell. 

Late  one  evening  in  June,  in  the  year  177 1,  two 
men  were  walking  under  the  oaks  and  chestnuts  in  the 
park  of  Ekolsund. 

The  elder  of  them  was  a  tall,  stately  gentleman  of 
about  fifty  years,  clad  with  evident  and  almost  scrupu- 
lous care,  in  the  court  costume  of  that  time,  who  defied 
the  liberty  of  country  life  itself,  and  deferentially  lis- 
tened to  the  words  of  the  younger,  while  a  cloud  of 
anxiety  seemed  to  darken  his  high  forehead.  When  he 
sometimes  uttered  a  few  words  in  reply,  they  were 
short  and  measured,  as  though  according  to  rule,  but 
his  words  were  those  of  the  tried  statesman,  and  betok- 
ened at  once  a  clear  judgment  and  an  imperturbable 
calmness. 

The  younger  of  the  two  was  only  twenty- five  years 
of  age,  and  also  wore  a  motley  costume,  according  to 
the  French  fashion  of  that  time.  Over  the  short  black 
small-clothes  of  velvet,  tied  with  red  ribbons,  the  yel- 
low silken  vest  and  the  blue  velvet  coat,  he  had  care- 
lessly thrown  a  short  Spanish  cloak  of  black  cloth. 
He  wore  a  lace  neck-cloth  and  cuffs,  a  wig,  a  hair-bag, 


44  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

ami  a  three-cornered  hat,  but  all  those  with  the  most 
unconstrained  and  agreeable  elegance,  and  he  spoke 
with  the  most  animated,  expressive  gestures,  as  he  now 
hastened  his  steps,  now  abruptly  stopped,  now  took  his 
attendant's  arm,  now  again  withdrew,  and  gesticulated 
with  his  hands,  as  though  he  needed  all  these  eloquent 
signs  to  complement  the  poverty  of  language.  In  his 
handsome,  frank,  intelligent  countenance,  every  mus- 
cle incessantly  played,  in  the  most  varying  expression, 
and  the  large,  lustrous,  blue  eyes,  in  particular,  had  a 
wonderful  power  of  reflecting  every  shade  of  the  feel- 
ings within  him,  just  as  the  tranquil  sea  by  turns  re- 
flects sunshine  and  clouds.  And  yet  it  was  said  of 
those  eyes  that  they  were  just  as  impenetrable  as  ex- 
pressive, just  as  enigmatical  as  captivating,  for  such 
was  the  whole  personality  of  this  young  man.  Nature 
had  formed  him  open  as  the  light  of  day,  but  life  had 
made  of  him  a  sealed  book.  He  had  grown  up  in  a 
time  of  many  intrigues,  and  was  so  continually  sur- 
rounded by  secret  enemies,  that  dissimulation  with 
him  became  a  necessity,  studied  from  his  earliest  child- 
hood, and  never  was  a  more  thoroughly  veiled  mind 
concealed  beneath  an  apparentl}' more  artless  sincerity. 
Still  there  were  moments  when  that  concealed  heart 
became  clear  to  the  few  initiated  who  had  the  rare  con- 
fidence of  looking  within  it.  It  was  the  king's  former 
tutor,  Count  Scheffer,  before  whom  Gustaf  III.  was 
now,  in  such  a  moment,  opening  three-fourths,  if  not 
the  whole,  of  his  heart.  The  situation  lay  clear  before 
them  both ;  they  surveyed  it  like  a  chess-board,  on 
which  the  king,  on  all  sides  surrounded  by  antagonists 
in  power  or  ambitious  of  power,  could  not  stir  without 
setting  his  crown  and  perhaps  his  life  at  stake.  Com- 
pelled to  remain  immovable,  that  position  slowly  but 
surely  would  also  cost  him  his  crown,  and  the  only 
means  of  extrication  was  to  set  other  pieces  in  motion, 
in  order  by  degrees  to  make  for  the  royal  chess-man 
freer  playing-room  and  more  independence. 


EVENING   STORMS.  45 

Surrounded,  flattered,  admired  by  all  that  Paris 
possessed  that  was  gay,  talented  and  brilliant,  the 
young  king  had  three  months  ago  received  the  message 
of  his  father's  sudden  death,  and  his  own  heavy  and 
powerless  crown.  Afterward  he  had  hastened  to  assure 
himself  of  the  sympathy  and  support  of  Louis  XV.; 
without  hesitation  he  had  subscribed  the  royal  assur- 
ance which  the  Swedish  council  made  haste  to  lay  be- 
fore him;  on  his  way  back,  he  had  visited  his  celebrat- 
ed and  dangerous  uncle.  King  Frederick,  in  Potsdam, 
and  he  now  stood  prepared  to  open  the  Swedish  Diet, 
where  his  implacable  enemies,  the  Caps,  after  their  de- 
feat two  years  before,  had  regained  power,  and  where 
Russia  and  England,  with  full  hands,  were  scattering 
money,  in  order  to  hinder  every  attempt  to  uplift  the 
country  out  of  its  deep  debasement. 

Concerning  all  this  the  king  had  been  counseling 
with  his  confidant,  and  the  situation  was  so  desperate 
that  no  other  salvation  seemed  possible  than  uncondi- 
tionally to  humiliate  himself  under  the  parties'  word  of 
command.  They  had  been  speaking  of  trying  to  mediate 
between  the  parties,  as  a  beginning,  and  flattering  the 
exasperated  Caps  with  a  few  places  in  the  council. 

This  was  to  begin  his  reign  with  a  bitter  humilia- 
tion, so  much  the  bitterer  as  the  Caps  required  censure 
against  the  late  king's  advisers.  The  young  king's 
cheeks  glowed  with  indignation. 

"Ah!  "  said  he,  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  "is  there 
in  all  the  world  a  more  unhappy  king  than  he  who  has 
no  choice  but  to  blush  in  his  own  presence,  or  to 
devote  his  country  to  destruction  ?  " 

"Yes,  sire,"  replied  Count  Scheffer,  with  dignity, 
"there  is  one  still  more  unhappy,  and  that  is  he  who  is 
obliged  to  submit  to  both." 

"That  is  true,"  responded  the  king  more  calmly. 
"  My  kingdom  lies  powerless,  my  crown  totters  in  every 
breeze,  and  yet  I  would  not  exchange  Sweden  for 
Poland,  nor  my  crown  for  that  of  Stanislas.     A  third 


40  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

means  exists,  and  I  still  possess  an  independent 
choice." 

"  I  venture  to  doubt  that,"  said  the  count. 

"  ^Vhat  ?  If  all  my  efforts  miscarry,  if  I  foresee  the 
fate  of  Stanislas,  can  I  not  abdicate?" 

"  Your  majesty  knows  better  than  I,  that  the  fate 
of  Sweden  wt>uld  then  infallibly  become  that  of  Poland." 

"  Soit.  My  honor  will  be  saved  in  the  eyes  of 
posterity." 

"  No  honor  for  your  majesty  will  surpass  that  of 
having  rescued  your  kingdom." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  thoughtfully  asked  the  king. 
"Alas,  my  dear  count,  a  wretched  Cap  is  at  this  mo- 
ment worth  more  than  my  whole  crown!  " 

The  two  who  were  conversing  had  now  approached 
the  enclosure  of  the  park,  and  before  Count  Scheffer 
had  time  to  reply,  the  cheery  song  of  a  pasture-girl 
was  heard,  as  she  was  driving  her  cows  along  the  path- 
way from  the  pasture.  The  gentlemen  listened.  It 
was  one  of  those  melodious  ballads  which  so  often,  in 
Sweden,  play,  as  it  were,  in  leafy  tree-tops: 

"  When  I  am  a  bride,  and  am  wearing  the  crown, 
In  roses  some  day, 
Oh,   finely  I'll  dance  in  my  garlanded  gown, 
Then  I  shall  be  gay ! 

"  My  crown  shall  be  splendid  with  leaves  all  bedight, 
And  roses  that  day  ; 
And  never  a  crown  was  with  beauty  so  bright, — 
Oh,   I  shall  be  gay  ! 

"  The  laddies  may  dance,  but  they'll  ne'er  dance  me  down, 
In  roses  that  day. 
And  never  a  troll  get  my  garlands  or  crown, — 
Oh,   I  shall  be  gay  ! " 

"  Behold  there  a  prophecy  !  "  said  Count  Scheffer, 
jestingly. 

"  Yes,  verily,"  replied  King  Gustaf  with  a  smile. 
"  I,  too,  shall  take  care  that  no  one  dances  me  down, 
and  then  I  hope  the  troll  will  not  get  my  crown." 


EVENING    STORMS.  47 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    COUNTRY    AT    AUCTION. 

ON  the  thirteenth  of  June,  177 1,  the  opening  of  the 
diet  was  announced  in  Stockhohn,  with  the  sound 
of  trumpets  and  kettle-drums,  and  every  one  prepared, 
if  not  to  make  himself  deserving  of  his  country,  at 
least  to  earn  something  by  it. 

The  same  day  the  burghers  and  peasants  were  to 
elect  their  speakers. 

Jonas  Bertila,  the  young  representative  from  Stor- 
kyro,  had  just  risen,  and  sat  immersed  in  the  reading 
of  his  morning  chapter  in  the  Bible,  when  some  one 
knocked  at  the  door  of  his  humble  room  in  the  south- 
ern suburb,  and  in  stepped  a  young  deputy  district 
judge,  private  secretary  of  Baron  Hopken,  leader  of 
the  Hats. 

"Is  this  Representative  Bertila?"  inquired  the 
curled  gentleman,  with  insinuating  tone. 

"  Yes.     In  what  way  can  I  be  of  service  ?  " 

"  I  only  wish  to  ask  after  your  health,  representative, 
as  you  were  not  in  the  company  last  evening  at  the  Red 
Cock  inn.  The  most  of  the  honorable  house  of  peas- 
ants were  present,  and  discoursed  the  good  of  the  king- 
dom over  a  mug  of  the  best  Rostocker  ale  which  has 
yet  been  emptied  for  the  good  cause.  I  suppose,  rep- 
presentative,  you  know  the  business  ;  Eric  Anderson  is 
being  voted  for,  and  the  cash  consideration  is  a  hun- 
dred plats,  of  which  I  here  beg  to  relieve  myself." 

"  What  is  that  for  ? "  inquired  the  young  and  as  yet 
inexperienced  representative,  when  his  be-curled  guest, 


48  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

without  further  ceremony  about  so  natural  and  usual  a 
matter,  began  to  count  out  his  package  of  bills  on  the 
table. 

The  elegant  gentleman  misunderstood  the  question. 
"  The  amount  is  not  as  large,  it  is  true,  as  my  superior 
would  wish,  and  a  man  of  such  great  influence  might 
expect,"  he  resumed,  without  the  least  embarrassment, 
"  but  the  times  are  close,  and  you  ma}'  be  assured, 
representative,  that  at  the  first  opportunity  you  shall 
be  especially  remembered.  Confidentially  speaking, 
we  have  the  king  and  liberty  on  our  side  !  So  Eric  An- 
derson will  be  the  choice;  I  suppose  that  is  decided  ?" 

"  Yes,  certainly,  I  have  been  thinking  of  voting  for 
Eric  Anderson,  but  neither  you,  sir,  nor  anybody  else, 
need  to  blow  it  in  my  ears,"  responded  honest  Jonas, 
whose  stolid  Finnish  blood  began  at  last  to  boil. 
"  What  do  you  want  to  do,  sir,  with  those  wretched 
rags  of  bills  ?  Are  you  thinking  of  buying  my  vote, 
sir  ? " 

"  I  guessed  immediately  that  it  was  too  little.  The 
Finnish  rascal  requires  higher  pay  than  I  thought,  but 
we  have  got  to  keep  him  in  good  humor,  for  he  can  in- 
fluence the  others  ! "  thought  the  negotiator  of  the 
Hats,  with  secret  vexation,  as,  with  somewhat  more 
ceremony  than  before,  he  drew  forth  another  package 
of  notes.  "  I  am  sure  that  all  of  the  honorable  peasants 
from  Finland  will  vote,  as  you  do.  Representative  Ber- 
tila,  for  the  good  cause,"  added  the  gentlemen,  as  he 
significantly  flapped  the  notes  against  the  table. 

That  was  pretty  intelligible.  Bertila  had  come,  with 
a  rare  innocence  indeed,  into  that  great  broker-estab- 
lishment called  the  diet,  but  he  would  have  been  a 
complete  blockhead  if  he  had  not  understood  such  an 
eloquent  language  of  signs.  He  had  also  gradually 
found  time  to  form  a  resolution,  and  the  result  was  that 
he  grasped  the  fine  gentleman  by  the  arm,  led  him  to 
the  door,  and  threw  the  bundles  of  bills  after  him,  down 
stairs. 


k 


EVENING   STORMS.  49 

"  There  you  have  your  rags,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  the 
enraged  peasant  after  him.  "  Another  time  you  can  be 
ashamed  of  yourself,  sir,  when  you  speak  to  free  peas- 
ants, sir  ! ' 

"  The  devil  is  to  pay,  because  I  did  not  have  gold 
coin  !  "  growled  the  attorney  of  the  Hats,  with  dis- 
pleasure, during  his  passage  down  stairs.  "The  times 
are  getting  worse  and  worse,  and  these  peasant-clowns 
are  every  day  becoming  more  insolent.  Once  they 
could  be  got  to  dance  a  fandango  for  a  mug  of  ale. 
Now,  it  does  not  at  all  do  to  stuff  them  with  bank- 
notes as  full  as  sausages ;  it  must  forsooth  be  a  silver 
tankard,  or  a  bracelet  for  mother,  or  a  purse  of  genuine 
ducats  !  I  am  very  sure  the  Caps  got  there  first,  and 
let  the  stupid  Finn  hear  the  jingle.  He  will  vote  for 
our  opponent,  that  is  as  clear  as  the  day,  and  that  is 
what  the  king  is  getting  for  being  so  niggardly  with 
his  farthings." 

"  If  that  is  the  honesty  of  the  Hats,  they  may  go  to 
the  deuce,"  thought  Jonas  Bertila,  on  his  part,  as  he  sat 
down  to  scrape  off  his  beard,  in  honor  of  the  day,  with 
a  razor  manufactured  in  his  own  smithy.  "  Well,  then 
I  shall  think  that  the  Caps  are  decent  folks,  and  do  not 
creep  forward  to  their  mark  by  roundabout  ways.  I 
shall  go  over  to  the  Caps  ;  then  we  poor  peasants  will 
at  least  be  able  to  live  in  peace  from  the  Russians." 

No  sooner  had  he  arrived  at  this  (as  he  thought) 
wise  resolve,  when  some  one  again  knocked  at  his  door, 
and  this  time  with  a  considerably  rougher  fist.  The 
door  was  opened,  and  in  shuffled  an  ex-member  of  the 
house  of  peasants,  who,  after  his  farm  had  gone  under 
the  hammer,  had  set  up  a  distillery  on  General  Sechlin's 
estate,  and  was  accustomed  to  running  errands  for  the 
leaders  of  the  Caps,  to  old  friends  in  the  house  of  peas- 
ants. The  man  was  a  rude  fellow,  of  the  very  sort  to 
impose  on  the  peasants  with  a  large  share  of  audacity, 
which  was  intended  to  represent  a  straightforward 
3  D 


50  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

manner,  and  an  unparalleled  impudence,  meant  to  pass 
for  business  practicality. 

"Well,  how  does  the  world  use  you,  old  man?" 
said  the  worthy  deputy,  throwing  himself  into  the 
other  painted  wooden  chair,  for  there  were  only  two 
in  the  room.  "  (}ood  as  to  health  and  better  as  to  cash  ? 
What  the  devil,  Bertila  !  I  believe  you  are  sleeking  up  ! 
Let  your  beard  grow,  old  man,  then  you  can  grumble 
in  it,  and  leave  that  smooth  chin  to  the  king's  darlings. 
We  are  free  peasants,  and  do  not  know  how  to  put  our 
words  into  flourishes,  and  our  faces  must  pass  for  what 
they  are  worth.  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  dram 
in  the  morning?     For  my  part,  I  prefer  Swedish  ale." 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  incjuired  Bertila,  who  had  never 
seen  the  fellow  before,  and  did  not  feel  particularly 
flattered  by  his  obtrusiveness. 

"■  Who  am  I  ?  What  a  question  !  That  sounds  as 
though  you  were  a  newly-fledged  dieter.  Everybody 
else  in  Sweden  knows  honest  old  Hallberg,  who  has 
never  put  on  any  ceremony  for  high  or  low.  But  it  is 
all  the  same.  If  you  want  a  friend  you  can  depend  on, 
and  who  is  peasant,  body  and  soul,  just  speak  the  word. 
Why  did  you  not  come  to  The  Sun  inn  yesterday? 
We  peasants  were  talking  over  the  good  of  the  king- 
dom there  in  a  way  that  made  the  wind  whistle.  They 
shall  sing  a  different  tune,  you  will  see;  and  we  are 
thinking  now  of  stuffing  the  king  into  our  right  boot, 
and  the  lords  into  our  left.  We  intend  to  vote  for  Jo- 
seph Hansson,  from  the  province  of  Elfsborg, — he  is  a 
true  man,  and  that  is  why  he  was  voted  out  of  the 
house  two  years  ago,  when  the  Hats  were  feeding  us 
with  French  confectionery.  Til  bet  a  fat  pig  for  next 
Christmas  that  you  think  as  I  do.  They  are  poor  as 
grasshoppers,  and  it  is  a  mere  nothing  they  offer  us; 
but  an  honest  fellow  deserves  his  day's  wages,  that  is 
my  catechism,  and  you  shall  have  yours,  Bertila. 
W^hat  do  you  say  to  fifty  pldts  ?     That  would  buy  you 


EVENING  STORMS.  51 

a  fine  ox,  and  a  silk  handkerchief  besides,  so  you  would 
be  welcome  at  mother's." 

"Fifty  plats?"  replied  Jonas,  who  now  began  to 
understand  which  way  the  conversation  leaned.  "  There 
was  a  gentleman  here  just  now  who  offered  a  hundred." 

"  Counterfeit  notes! — nothing  but  counterfeit  notes! 
Depend  upon  it,  Bertila,  as  true  as  I  am  a  peasant,  body 
I  and  soul.     Well,  I  suppose  you  were  sensible  enough 
I  to  give  him  a  passport  down  stairs  ?  " 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  did." 

"  Didn't  I  say  so  ?  You  are  a  jewel  of  a  represent- 
ative, and,  for  that,  you  shall  have  seventy  plats,  gen- 
uine current  money,  which  you  will  not  be  hung 
for." 

"  For  what  good  deed  ?  " 

"  For  what  ?    For  your  honesty,  your  ability,  and 
because  you  side  with  the  good  of  the  country." 

"  But  suppose  it  should  not  occur  to  me  to  sell  my 
vote  ? " 

"  If  ?  Well,  you  are  a  comical  knot,  Bertila.  See 
here,  I  will  tell  you  something  confidentially.  You 
shall  have  a  hundred  plats,  on  the  condition  that  you 
do  not  speak  of  it  to  any  living  soul.  What  do  you  say 
of  that,  eh  ?" 

"  For  shame  !     I  am  no  thief  !" 

"  Indeed  !  If  you  sing  that  song,  it  will  be  to  your 
■ijown  injury.  You  may  let  thieves  and  rascals  rule  the 
kingdom,  for  all  me.  I  speak  my  mind  plainly,  and 
advise  you  as  a  friend.  It  can't  be  you  mean  to  ask  a 
hundred  and  fifty  ?  There  are  plenty  of  others  here 
who  mean  well  by  their  country.  And  then  I  will 
whisper  something  in  your  ear  :  the  king  is  on  our 
side  !  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  Doesn't  it  beat 
the  devil  ?  Well,  let  her  slide  for  a  hundred  and  fifty, 
since  you  have  got  so  much  Finnish  in  you  !" 

"  Is  the  auction  over  now  ?"  inquired  Bertila,  as  he 
laid  away  his  razor,  and  threateningly  arose. 

"What  a   Turk  you    are   to  me  !"  responded    the 


ri.^fKS  OF  ALCHEMY. 


negotiator,  who  had  aj^ain  misunilerstood  his  meaning, 
anil  with  a  liiimacc  put  his  hand  into  his  breast  jiocket. 
''  Really,  old  man,  are  you  not  a  little  unreasonable  ? 
lUit  if  you  will  not  take  less,  ami  will  promise  to  deserve 
it,  then — call  it  two  hundred  !  That  is  my  last  oiler, 
as  true  as  1  am  jieasant,  soul  and  body." 

"  And  as  true  as  1  am  peasant,  body  anil  soul,  I  will 
teach  you  how  an  honest  fellow  answers  such  villain- 
ous wiles!''  responded  Hertila,  as  he  seized  the  fellow 
by  the  collar,  and  threw  him  heels  over  head  down 
stairs. 

"  Cursed  Finn  !"  muttered  the  negotiator,  rub- 
bing his  back.  "  That  is  only  because  the  Hats  have 
offered  him  two  hundred  and  fifty  !" 

"  I  perceive  that  the  Caps  and  Hats  can  shake 
hands  with  each  other !"  said  Bertila  disdainfully, 
"  iMy  poor  country  !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TllK  HIC.UKST  OKFKR. 

FULL  of  indignation,  Jonas  Bertila  called  on  his 
relative,  Thomas  Larsson,  grandson  of  the  burgher 
king,  and,  after  the  resignation  of  Gronberg,  representa- 
tive for  the  town  of  Wasa.  An  hour  or  two  still  remained 
before  the  members  were  to  assemble  for  voting,  and 
the  young  peasant  wanted  to  hear  the  opinion  of  the 
burgher. 

Thomas  Larsson  was  a  stiff,  reticent  man  of  forty, 
anil,  like  his  father  and  grandfather,  a  merchant  from 
the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot.  Like 
all  his  family,  he  was  active,  industrious  and  shrewd, 
and  therefore  not  inclined  to  be  lavish  with  his  father's 
wealth  ;  but  that  vein  of  iron  which  had  hitherto  gone 
through  the  family,  and    ii\   the   grandfather   had   liar- 


EVENING   STORMS.  53 

dened  to  the  most  highly  tempered  steel,  had  in  the 
last  two  generations  begun  to  soften.  Nothing  ill  was 
known  of  Thomas  Larsson,  more  than  of  other  wealthy 
magnates  of  provincial  towns,  at  whom  envy  liked  to 
peck  ;  but  it  was  believed  that  he  was  not  as  invulner- 
able to  bribes  as  the  state  of  his  finances  might  have 
allowed  him  to  be,  and  it  was  therefore  not  without 
hesitation  that  Jonas  set  out  for  the  abode  of  this  sec- 
ond cousin,  to  ask  counsel  of  him. 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  said  the  cautious  merchant.  "  I 
am  going  to  vote  for  the  Caps.  Our  family  have  been 
Caps  for  fifty  years,  and  for  that  reason  I  was  elected." 

"  Did  you  get  paid  for  it  ?"  inquired  Jonas,  gloomy 
of  heart. 

"  Paid  or  not,  I  shall  vote  for  the  one  I  think 
best." 

"  And  you  have  the  conscience  to  accept  Russian 
money  !" 

''  Or  English,"  responded  Thomas,  with  a  coarse 
laugh.  "  It  is  not  very  exactly  known  ;  it  smells  neither 
of  sole-leather  nor  stone  coal.  It  would  not  injure 
your  business  to  be  less  hypocritical.  If  you  do  not 
take  it,  some  one  else  will.  The  money  comes  into  the 
realm,  and  that  is  the  main  thing." 

"  Is  that  the  main  thing  ?  For  what  then  do  you 
estimate  the  honor  and  welfare  of  the  nation  !  For 
what  do  you  estimate  your  own  conscience  ?" 

The  merchant  impatiently  shook  his  head.  "  That 
is  the  way  of  it  when  boys  are  sent  to  the  diet !"  he 
growled.  "Phrases,  and  again  phrases,  and  nothing  but 
phrases  !  The  honor  of  the  nation  !  The  welfare  of 
the  country  !  All  that  sounds  very  nice,  but  we  have 
a  chance  to  hear  the  same  from  morning  till  night, 
from  every  scoundrel,  whether  he  calls  himself  Hat  or 
Cap.  My  conscience  is  ten  years  older  than  yours, 
and  when  you  get  to  be  ten  years  older,  you  will  learn 
to  look  out  for  the  good  of  the  country  and  your 
finances  at  the  same  time." 


54  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Willi  this,  the  young  peasant  went  to  the  assem- 
bly room  of  the  representatives  of  liis  rank,  and, 
behold,  the  fairest  speeches,  about  the  good  of  the 
realm,  the  true  welfare  of  the  country,  and  the  duties 
of  citizens,  here  and  there  interlarded,  as  occasion 
required,  with  illusory  remarks  about  enlarged  privi- 
leges for  the  honorable  house  of  peasants,  were  really 
made  !  All  the  speakers  used  the  same  phrases,  only 
with  the  difference  that  the  friends  of  the  Hats  repre- 
sented the  Caps  as  the  basest  traitors  who  had  ever 
beheld  the  light  of  day,  while  the  Caps,  on  their  part, 
protested  that  all  misfortune  of  the  realm  came  from 
the  malicious  Hats,  and  that  the  country  would  never 
have  tranquillity  until  those  monsters  were  utterly  exter- 
minated. Honest  Jonas  Bertila  was  filled  with  shame 
and  disgust,  for  he  knew  that  all  those  speeches  had 
been  written  in  the  invisible  court  of  the  leaders.  He 
now  knew  that  all,  or  almost  all,  of  those  vociferous 
friends  of  country  had  sold  their  patriotism  for  cash, 
the  simplest  for  fifty  plats,  and  the  more  cunning  for  a 
hundred,  a  hundred  and  fifty,  or  two  hundred,  accord- 
ing to  their  skill  in  extorting  it  from  the  negotiators 
who  had  taken  the  job  of  furnishing  this  or  that  num- 
ber of  votes,  and  had  their  lawful  profit  on  everything 
that  they  could  bargain  for. 

The  hostile  parties  seemed  in  the  beginning  to  be 
of  about  equal  strength, — that  is  to  say,  equally  well 
salaried.  But  it  soon  apeared  that  the  Caps  paid  the 
more  liberally,  and  at  the  voting  they  thus  conquered, 
by  eighty-four  to  sixty-one.  Jonas  Bertila  had  belonged 
to  the  minority.  He  did  not  like  the  Hats,  but  he  liked 
the  Caps  still  less. 

The  result  was  the  same  in  the  house  of  burghers. 
The  Caps  were  victorious  with  seventy-two  to  fifty-five. 
Never  had  the  parties  been  more  shameless,  or  more 
boldly  made  use  of  every  possible  means  to  take  victory 
by  force.  With  lavish  hands,  English  and  Russian 
ministers  poured  out  gold  to  secure  the  success  of  the 


EVENING  STORMS.  55 

Caps  ;  and  the  French  minister,  the  patron  of  the  Hats, 
vainly  turned  his  whole  purse  inside  out.  While  Madam 
Du  Barry's  lap-dog  was  wearing  a  collar  of  jewels,  her 
lord's  minister.  Baron  Vergennes,  had  not  over  a  paltry 
two  hundred  thousand  francs  to  feed  the  voracious 
members  of  the  diet,  and  King  Gustaf  was  obliged  to 
borrow  of  Vergennes  !  The  kingdom  of  Sweden  was 
set  up  at  auction  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  General 
Pechlin  ventured  mockingly  to  tell  the  king  to  his  face 
that  bribes  were  the  best  defence  of  liberty. 

And  now  the  clergy  were  to  choose  their  speaker. 
They  were  few  in  number,  and  therefore  most  expensive 
to  buy.  But  a  fourth  of  the  power  was  theirs,  so  why 
should  they  sell  their  country  for  a  song  ?  These  holy 
men,  whose  kingdom,  however,  ought  not  to  be  of  this 
world,  sold  themselves  with  so  much  skill  that  their 
table,  for  a  long  time  afterward,  sunk  beneath  silver, 
as  their  bodies  beneath  the  burden  of  their  stomachs. 

A  strange  providence  had  ordained  that  members  of 
the  Larsson  family,  at  this  diet,  sat  in  all  three  of  the 
untitled  parliamentary  bodies — Bertila  in  the  house  of 
peasants,  Thomas  Larsson  in  the  house  of  burghers, 
and,  among  the  clergy,  his  uncle,  Provost  Bertel  Lars- 
son, younger  son  of  the  burgher-king.  To  this  prelate 
went  Jonas  Bertila,  the  day  before  the  election  of 
speaker.  It  had  been  with  Jonas  as  with  many  another 
in  stormy  times — he  had  determined  not  to  belong  to 
any  party,  and  yet  little  by  little  had  been  compelled 
to  attach  himself  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  combat- 
ants. By  way  of  experiment  he,  like  others,  had  been 
a  Hat;  and  now  went  to  the  provost,  who  was  his 
mother's  cousin,  to  ask  advice  of  that  esteemed  man, 
whom  Jonas  from  childhood  had  heard  spoken  of  as  a 
model  in  his  rank. 

Provost  Larsson,  however,  was  as  perfect  an  oppo- 
site to  his  pious  daughter,  Cecilia,  as  a  stomach  of 
earthly  dust  can  be  to  an  eye  of  heavenly  luster.  He 
was  a  gigantic  old  man  of  sixty-two,  bland  and  smiling 


5(j  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

beneath  the  bushy  eyebrows,  and  very  devout,  when 
occasion  required,  but  never  thinking  of  anything  ex- 
cept his  own  advantage.  He  was  now  representative 
for  tlie  third  time,  and  it  had  cost  him  round  sums  to 
his  brethren  in  rank  at  home,  but  that,  too,  was  an  affair 
which  he  knew  how  to  manage  with  marked  adroitness. 
^^'hen  the  envoy  of  the  Hats  offered  him  live  hundred 
pUiis,  he  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  declared 
that  he  had  not  had  any  temporal  gain  in  view,  but  in- 
tended to  vote  for  the  Caps,  after  which  the  offer  was 
gradually  raised  to  three  thousand  five  hundred  plats, 
which  were  counted  out  in  cash  on  his  table,  and  with 
the  most  maidenlike  mien  were  swept  into  the  large 
till.  The  provost  was  then  at  last  convinced  that  the 
Hats  were  right.  And  when,  the  day  afterwards,  the 
messenger  of  the  Caps  came  to  offer  him  a  cash  con- 
sideration of  equal  weight,  Provost  Larsson  declared, 
in  accordance  with  his  new  principles,  that  he  would 
by  no  means  have  any  ill-earned  pelf,  as  his  conscience 
bade  him  vote  with  the  Hats.  The  consequence  was 
that  the  offer  was  raised,  five  hundred  plats  at  a  time, 
and  when,  in  this  manner,  the  neat  sum  of  five  thou- 
sand plats  was  reached,  and  it  was  given  to  understand 
that  the  measure  was  full,  the  provost,  to  his  great 
astonishment,  began  to  find  that  the  Caps  were  not 
altogether  wrong.  They  should  only  prepare  them- 
selves for  the  sad  possibility  that  the  half-blind  old 
Dean  Pryss,  of  Abo,  might  some  fine  day  go  the  way 
of  all  the  earth,  and,  in  so  mournful  an  event,  it  would 
be  of  much  importance  that  his  place  should  be  occu- 
pied by  a  patriotic  man,  who  knew  how  to  guard  the 
interests  of  the  clergy.  Wherefore  he,  Larsson,  was 
prepared  to  sacrifice  himself  for  that  heavy  and 
responsible  calling,  in  case  he  received  written  assur- 
ance of  the  succession  to  it.  The  engagement 
was  made  out  —  for  what  was  not  in  the  power 
of  the  Caps  ? — and  now  the  reverend  man  finally  per- 
ceived that  the  Hats  were  extremely  wrong,  and  the 


EVENING   STORMS.  57 

Caps,  on  the  contrary,  were  the  only  true  foundation 
pillars  of  the  country.  The  transaction  was  not  to  be 
despised.  Of  what  inestimable  value  is  a  conviction, 
which,  first  on  one  side,  and  then  on  the  other,  brings 
in  the  fine  profit  of  in  all  eight  thousand  five  hundred 
pliits,  and  the  dignity  of  a  dean  ! 

Jonas  found  his  relative  in  the  brightest  mood,  and 
in  his  innocence  took  courage  to  lament  over  the  shame- 
less system  of  bribery  which  ruled  at  the  diet. 

The  provost's  wide  lips  were  curved  by  the  most 
agreeable  smile.  "  You  may  well  say  so  !  "  he  sighed, 
as  he  raised  his  eyes  devoutly  toward  the  ceiling. 
"  The  world  is  full  of  evil,  and  the  slaves  of  Mammon 
think  of  nothing  but  their  fleshly  lusts.  We  must 
equip  ourselves  for  a  hard  struggle,  and  not  disdain 
worldly  weapons.  We  must  see  to  it  that  a  humble 
share  of  this  world's  goods  gets  into  worthy  hands,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  good  cause.  We  must  not  thrust 
from  us  those  temporal  gifts  which  Heaven  may  send 
us  to  promote  the  good  of  the  church  and  the  land." 

"  Of  course  not !  But,  reverend  father,  you  would 
not  take  bribes,  would  you  ? "  innocently  inquired  the 
peasant. 

"  Heaven  preserve  us  !  "  replied  the  provost,  some- 
what embarrassed,  notwithstanding  his  hard  forehead. 
"Who  would  take  bribes  ?  I  only  mean  that  any  little 
mite  which  may  fall  to  the  benefit  of  a  poor  parish 
should  not  be  despised,  especially  when  it  is  known 
that  a  service  is  done  to  the  country  by  means  of  it," 

"  So,  reverend  father,  you  accept  bribes,  do  you  ? " 
asked  Jonas  once  more,  for  he  thought  in  all  these 
meanderings  he  perceived  the  fumes  of  an  evil  con- 
science. 

"  We  must  not  be  too  strict,  my  son  !  "  exhorted  the 
provost,  in  a  paternal  tone.  "We  are  all  weak  mortals; 
we  must  think  of  poor  children,  and  not  slight  what 
Heaven  allots  to  us  of  this  earthly  bounty." 


58  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


"  Aiul  yi'l,  rrvrri-nd  father,  yoii  have  a  fat  iiastoralc 
and  a  ^rrat  iiilicritaiux'  !"  aii)^rily  cxclaiiucd  lU'itila. 

"  I  am  a  poor  srrvant  of  tlic  Lord,  and  sc^arci-Iy 
have  my  daily  l)read— that  you  know  very  well,  dear 
son  !  " 

"  \'oii  \\\c  (lie  servant  of  llie  devil,  you  cursed 
|)riest,  who  will  sell  your  fatherland  !  "  exclaimed 
Jonas  Iterlila,  in  a  raj^inj^'  fury,  as  he  rushed  out,  slam- 
ming tin:  door  hiliind  him. 


CHArri'.R  X. 

AN   AuniKNCi'',  wrni  cusi'ak  nr. 

IN  vain  were  all  the  expenditures  of  the  Hats  ;  their 
two  hundred  thousand  francs  were  the  same  as 
thrown  into  tlie  sea.  In  ilir  liou.se  of  clerjjy,  the  Caps 
triumpheil  with  a  plurality  of  one  vote,  and  Hishop 
Korseiiiiis  linm  Sl<ara  became  their  speaker.  It  had 
cost  them  tliice  ki');s  of  ^^old,  in  roubles  and  pounds 
Sterlin;^;  but  then,  tliev  now  had  tliree-loint  lis  ol  the 
power.  'I'lu;  last  lourth  was  muk'ti-rmined,  for  the  no- 
bility were  yet  to  choose  their  speaker.  'I'his  would 
perfect  the  viitory  on  the  one  side,  and  the  defeat  on 
the  other. 

In  the  vSwi'dish  palace  of  nobles,  with  its  brilliant 
old  ancestry,  the  auction  was  thus  to  be  c-losed.  All 
e(iuip|)ed  themselves  to  coiuitier  or  dii' — for  country  ? 
No,  for  tlu'ir  share  of  the  booty. 

lionesl  Jonas  liertila  li.id,  for  a  week  now,  seen  and 
iieard  nuii:h  of  which  he  had  never  been  able  to  dream; 
but  one  thiny;  was  ineompreiu'usible  to  him,  and  that 
was  what  the  kinj.j  mij^ht  think  about  all  this.  Jonas 
very  well  knew  how  the  lords  wranj;led  about  govern- 
ing  the   kingdom,   how   one   house    wanted    to   obtain 


EVENING   STORMS.  59 

privileges  at  the  expense  of  the  others,  and  how  they 
vied  in  greed  for  illicit  wages  ;  but  he  did  not  under- 
stand what  the  king,  about  whom  no  one  apparently- 
troubled  himself,  but  to  whom  all  in  secrecy  appealed, 
had  to  do  with  all  these  intrigues.  With  his  old  inherit- 
ed reverence  for  the  father  of  the  country,  Jonas  could 
not  believe  otherwise  than  that  King  Gustaf  was  igno- 
rant of  that  infamous  brokerage  which  here  on  every 
side  was  carried  on  with  the  welfare  of  the  land,  and 
he  regarded  it  his  duty,  as  a  faithful  subject,  to  enlighten 
the  poor  deluded  monarch  as  to  how  badly  his  estates 
were  using  the  honor  of  the  realm. 

"  The  good  king  is  still  so  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced," thought  Jonas  to  himself,  "he  knows  noth- 
ing about  it,  he  thinks  everything  is  going  on  honestly, 
and  his  court  gentlemen  are  careful  not  to  let  him  get 
a  peep  at  their  cards.  But  I  will  go  to  him,  and  tell 
him  plainly  how  it  is,  even  if  ray  niggardly  cousin  in 
the  house  of  burghers  should  burst  with  anger,  and  my 
reverend  uncle  in  the  house  of  clergy  should  read  the 
litany  over  me  seven  times." 

To  think  was  to  act.  Jonas  had  lately  read  in  the 
"News"  that  his  royal  majesty  graciously  allowed  all  his 
subjects,  high  and  low,  personally  to  present  to  him 
their  complaints  or  wishes  on  the  afternoon  of  every 
Monday,  Tuesday  and  Wednesday,  between  four  and 
five  o'clock,  at  the  royal  palace.  It  was  now  Wednes- 
day; and  Jonas  set  out  on  a  direct  route  to  his 
majesty. 

When  he  approached  the  entrance  of  the  castle, 
when  he  saw  the  sentinels,  and  when  the  large,  majestic 
building,  with  its  masses  of  stone,  pressed  him  as  it 
were  to  nothing,  then  for  the  first  time  Jonas  felt  his 
heart  beat  quicker  than  usual.  What  had  he  to  do 
here  ?  And  how  should  he,  an  ignorant  pe^isant,  know 
how  to  put  his  words  together  before  such  grand 
gentlemen  ?  Would  he  not  do  wisest  to  turn  about  ? — 
But  no  ;    did  he  not  see  the  swallows  flying  in  through 


00  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

tliat  lofty  entrance  just  as  fearlessly  as  he  had  seen 
them  lly  under  his  low  eaves  in  Storkyro,  and  was  he 
not  more  than  swallows  !  ^^'as  he  not  a  member  of 
tlie  diet  ?  Did  he  not  come  with  honest  intentions  ? 
He  went  on. 

In  the  front  room  he  had  to  wait,  while  the  gentle- 
man of  the  bedchamber  for  the  day  introduced  the 
petitioners  in  the  order  they  had  announced  them- 
selves. Here  were  disabled  soldiers  on  wooden  legs, 
from  the  Pomeranian  war ;  ofificers'  widows,  with  pen- 
sions of  eight  plats  ;  poor  curates  in  quest  of  pastorates  ; 
bankrupt  merchants  who  wanted  to  set  up  soap- 
manufactories  ;  mesdames  who  kept  ale-houses  and 
complained  of  the  police  ;  rock-blasters  who  had 
become  blind  by  powder  ;  discharged  actors  who  de- 
claimed passages  from  "  Don  Ranudo  di  Colibrados;  " 
famished  poets  who  carried  in  their  pockets  flattering 
placards  two  feet  long;  shoemaker  boys  with  their  ears 
closed  by  cuffs  from  their  masters  ;  chimney-sweeps 
who  had  tumbled  down  through  the  chimney ; — in 
short,  a  sample  cliart  of  all  real  and  imagined  distress, 
and  all  these  had  in  advance  committed  long  lessons 
with  which  they  would  storm  the  sympathy  of  the 
king.  But  as  that  short  hour  would  in  this  way 
scarcely  have  sufficed  for  one  or  two,  each  one  was 
told  to  dispatch  his  business  in  two  minutes,  if  his 
majesty  was  not  pleased  to  question  him  particularly, 
and  therefore  all  now  stood  with  perspiring  foreheads, 
meditating  the  best  manner  of  speaking  briefly  and 
comprehensibly,  while  the  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber 
stood  inexorable,  with  bell  in  hand,  and  cut  off  the 
harangue.  It  was  remarkable,  however,  to  observe 
how  most  of  them  went  in  bewildered  and  came  out 
beaming,  for  King  Gustaf's  famous  art  of  winning  the 
human  heart  with  a  friendly  word  or  a  gracious  look 
never  failed  to  manifest  itself  on  these  occasions,  and 
he  now  had  more  reason  than  ever  to  win  hearts,  for 
all  these  were  a  capital  in  his  business.     He  disdained 


EVENING  STORMS.  61 

not  the  most  insignificant,  for  he  needed  these  people 
perhaps  more  than  they  needed  him. 

One  of  the  suppHcants,  Jonas  thought  he  recog- 
nized. It  was  Hallberg,  the  runner  of  the  Caps,  in 
his  own  exalted  person.  "  Just  wait  !  "  thought  the 
honest  peasant. 

At  last  it  was  Jonas's  turn;  and  before  the  remark- 
able speech  about  the  mischief  of  the  diet,  which  he 
intended  to  make  to  the  king,  was  arranged  in  his 
mind,  he  was  standing  face  to  face  with  the  monarch 
of  Sweden,  Finland,  and  Storkyro. 

King  Gustaf,  in  a  somewhat  simpler  costume  than 
usual,  was  sitting  at  a  little  work-table  of  ebony,  and 
near  him,  together  with  the  adjutant  on  duty,  stood  a 
secretary,  who  received  the  requests  of  the  petitioners. 

Expecting  to  hear  the  young  peasant  in  his  wadmal 
jacket  present  some  supplication  about  abatement  of 
taxes,  the  king  gave  him  a  transient  and  inquiring 
glance.  But  Jonas  was  not  so  instantly  ready.  One 
minute  passed,  and  with  it  went  half  of  the  time  fixed 
for  his  audience. 

"How  do  matters  stand,  my  friend?"  asked  the 
king,  without  the  least  sign  of  impatience.  He  had 
special  reasons  for  wishing  to  stand  well  with  the 
peasants. 

A  resident  of  Storkyro,  but  a  native  of  Munsala, 
Jonas  Bertila  spoke  Finnish  and  Swedish  with  equal 
ease,  and  this  facility  had  been  very  seasonable  at  the 
diet,  where  those  peasants  who  knew  only  the  Finnish 
language  were  at  a  great  disadvantage,  one  against 
eight  or  ten,  as  they  commonly  were,  in  the  united 
Swedish  and  Finnish  house  of  peasants.  So  Jonas 
made  a  scrape  with  his  foot  and  replied  : 

"  God  save  your  majesty  !  Matters  are  in  a  bad 
fix." 

"What  have  you  to  complain  of?  Is  your  farm 
going  to  be  sold  for  crown  arrears,  or  have  you  been 
burdened  with  long  highways  ?  "  inquired  the  king. 


Gt>  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  replied  Jonas,  who  now  began 
to  get  a  tongue  in  his  mouth,  "  my  own  affairs  are  in  a 
tolerably  good  condition,  although  the  taxes  are  pretty 
heavy,  but  the  church  music  of  the  kingdom  is  in  a  bad 
fix.  It  is  on  the  straight  road  to  the  devil,  I  tell  your 
gracious  majesty." 

The  king  smiled,  and  gave  a  signal  to  his  gentle- 
man, who,  with  bell  in  hand,  was  ready  abruptly  to  cut 
off  this  threatening  beginning.  "  In  what  respects  are 
matters  in  so  bad  a  state  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Well,"  said  Jonas,  "the  way  of  it  is,  they  are 
milking  each  other's  cows,  right  and  left,  here  at  the 
diet.  Your  gracious  majesty  may  believe  that  they  fly 
around  worse  than  a  clerk  of  the  muster.  There  are 
folks  running  around  here  on  the  sly,  whispering  with 
the  peasants  and  whispering  with  the  burghers  and 
whispering  with  the  clergy,  and  they  have  their  pockets 
full  of  bank-notes  and  silver  dollars,  jingle,  jingle,  for 
whomsoever  will  have  them.  And  the  peasants  bow, 
and  the  burghers  bow,  and  the  clergy  bow,  and  say, 
'  We  most  humbly  thank  you, — for  whom  shall  we  vote  ? ' 
Well,  the  answer  is,  '  Vote  for  Hansson  ! '  *  Vote  for 
Sebaldt ! '  '  Vote  for  Forsenius  ! '  And  the  fool  does 
as  the  madman  bids, — and  that  is  the  way  it  goes. 
But,  your  gracious  majesty,  you  see  it  will  not  do,  and 
though  they  should  kill  me  on  the  spot,  I  would  say,  it 
is  sheer  rascality  !  For  there  is  one  knot  yet  in  the 
skein  which  they  are  careful  not  to  speak  about,  and 
so  your  gracious  majesty  can  never  in  all  the  world 
scent  out  all  their  villainy." 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  Speak  freely,  my  honest 
peasant !  "  said  the  king,  amused  at  the  frank  speech  of 
the  man,  and  seeing  through  his  honest  design. 

"  I  beg  for  grace,  in  case  I  talk  the  head  off  from 
me,  for  it  may  chance  that  I  talk  the  head  off  from 
others  too,"  discreetly  replied  Jonas,  "but  you  see,  the 
way  of  it  is, — it  is  all  a  contrived  plan.  Your  gracious 
majesty  can  never  think  how  it  is." 


EVENING   STORMS.  63 

"  No;  how  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,  the  Frenchmen  have  bought  one  part  of 
the  kingdom,  the  EngHshmen  two,  and  the  Russians 
two  and  a  half.  There  are  people  who  have  sold  the 
kingdom  to  all  three.     For  you  see  it  is  their  money  !  " 

"  No  !  Is  it  possible  ?  I  never  knew  that,"  replied 
the  king,  very  seriously. 

"  I  could  believe  that,"  said  Jonas,  with  a  nod. 
*'  And  it  is  a  good  thing  that  your  gracious  majesty 
finds  it  out  before  they  raffle  off  your  crown.  I,  for 
my  part,  think  it  is  shameless." 

"I  think  so  too,"  replied  the  king.  "But  what 
would  you  have  me  do  with  such  people  ?  I  cannot 
hang  the  whole  diet  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Jonas,  looking  cautiously  around  him, 
"but  your  gracious  majesty  might  take  the  gloves  off 
from  them." 

"  In  what  way,  then  ?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  presume  to  comprehend.  Your 
gracious  majesty  is  shrewder  than  you  make  yourself 
out  to  be.  You  know  well  enough  what  is  best.  I 
only  say  as  the  fiddler  once  said." 

"  What  did  the  fiddler  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  :  '  The  tune  is  played  out  when  the  fin- 
gers are  gone.'  " 

A  quick,  searching  glance  darted  from  those  large, 
lustrous,  blue  eyes,  and  transfixed  the  bold  speaker. 
Perhaps  King  Gustaf  suspected  that  this  peasant,  who, 
with  all  his  simplicity,  did  not  lack  a  good  share  of 
shrewdness,  was  one  of  the  deputed  spies  of  the  Caps. 
But  he  calmed  himself,  and  in  his  former  gracious  tone 
immediately  said  :  "  I  have  heard  another  adage  : 
'If  need  be,  one  can  dance  on  wooden  legs.'  Thank 
you,  however,  for  your  good  intention.  Is  there  any- 
thing you  wish  on  your  own  behalf  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  except  that  your  gracious 
majesty  will  drive  Hallberg  outdoors,  for  that  is  what 
I  did.     Day  before  yesterday  he  was  running  errands 


04  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

for  the   Caps,  and  now  he  is  standing  out  there,  and 

wants  to  bow  himself  in." 

"  Very  well,  very  well ;   I  will  keep  you  in  mind." 
The  audience  was  ended,  and  Jonas  withdrew.    To 

his  utter  astonishment,  he  saw  that  the  one  who  next 

after   him   obtained    audience   was  no   other   than — 

Hallberg. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PAUL    BERTELSKOLD's    ARRIVAL     HOME. 

AT  the  very  time  when  the  parties  in  Sweden  were 
most  hotly  bombarding  each  other  with  golden 
balls,  that  most  unexpected  event,  which  is  mentioned 
in  the  beginning  of  this  story,  had  spread  an  indescrib- 
able confusion  within  the  Bertelskold  family,  at  its 
Falkby  estate  in  East  Gothland.  We  remember  that 
the  head  of  the  family  had  received  the  terrible  infor- 
mation of  his  wife's  flight  at  the  same  moment  that  his 
younger  son,  Paul,  accompanied  by  Eric  Ljung,  arrived 
at  the  paternal  home. 

On  that  noble  but  weak  man,  this  news  made  an 
impression  as  though  the  earth  had  given  way  beneath 
his  feet,  and  he,  from  a  home  of  domestic  happiness, 
had  suddenly  been  moved  into  the  midst  of  an  un- 
peopled desert.  His  first  desperation  turned  toward 
his  elder  son,  Count  Bernhard,  who,  ignorant  of  what 
had  happened,  increased  his  grief  by  his  cold  scorn 
regarding  Paul. 

"  Unworthy  son!  "  said  the  unhappy  count.  "  You 
have  crushed  your  father's  heart;  you  have  driven  from 
his  house  the  noblest  v^roman  on  earth!" 

In  this  upbraiding  there  was  something  which, 
quite  against  his  wont,  made  that  haughty  young  man's- 
cheek  turn  pale.     Silently  he  took  the  letter  his  father 


EVENING  STORMS.  65 

reached  him,  and  which  contained  the  explanation  of 
his  step-mother's  resolve. 

Count  Bernhard  read,  and  his  cheek  became  paler 
and  paler.  This,  he  had  not  expected.  He  had  formed 
an  opinion  of  his  step-mother  from  the  common 
human  standpoint,  as  a  prudent  but  ambitious  woman, 
whose  presumptuous  claim  to  an  equality  with  him  he 
ought  to  repulse  and  punish,  not  only  for  his  own  sake, 
but  also  that  of  his  father  and  the  other  children,  who 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world  must  suffer  from  a  mesalliance. 
If  his  father  had  been  weak  enough  to  let  himself  be 
caught  in  the  net  of  this  ambitious  burgher-daughter, 
it  devolved  upon  him,  the  eldest  son  and  the  heir,  to 
maintain  the  honor  of  the  family.  And  if  he  could 
not  undo  what  was  done,  he  would  at  least  render  it 
harmless,  by  making  his  step-mother  feel  her  depend- 
ence and  his  superiority, — by  remanding  her  to  the 
claimless  position  of  a  tolerated  person,  the  highest  to 
which  she  ought  to  aspire.  That  his  step-mother  would 
at  the  farthest  seek  to  retain  her  place  of  equality, 
Count  Bernhard  expected;  but  that  she  should  demand 
all  or  nothing — that,  rather  than  buy  a  title  with  a 
humiliation,  she  would,  with  so  bold  a  resolve,  cut  the 
knot  she  was  unable  in  any  other  way  to  loose — had 
never  occurred  to  him.  Too  late  he  now  perceived 
that  he  had  mistaken  that  high-born  soul,  just  as  proud 
as  his  own,  only  more  elevated;  and  a  transient  emotion 
of  repentance  or  perplexity  took  possession  of  his  cal- 
culating mind.  "  I  ought  to  have  acted  more  warily," 
thought  he  to  himself.  "  If  this  event  becomes  known 
it  will  cause  scandal;  the  deserter  will  be  represented 
as  a  martyr,  our  family  will  be  compromised;  I  myself 
may  suffer  from  it,  and  after  such  a  rupture  it  will  be 
disagreeable  to  meet  that  mad-cap,  Paul.  Enfin,  we 
must  counsel  well  before  we  act,  and  do  everything  to 
throw  a  veil  over  this  sottise." 

Within  a  shorter  time  than  it  has  taken  to  relate 
this,  Count  Bernhard  had  formed  his  resolution,  "Calm 
3*  E 


66  TIAfES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

yourself,  father!  "  said  he,  in  a  respectful,  almost  affec- 
tionate tone.  "It  is  a  lamentable  misunderstanding, 
which  I  hope  we  shall  soon  make  right.  This  rupture 
is  not  irreparable,  if  we  only  succeed  in  giving  it  a 
milder  coloring.  Will  you  allow  me  to  act  in  your 
place?  " 

"  Do  as  you  will,"  replied  the  crushed  father,  "only 
take  no  step  that  can  put  a  stain  on  your  mother,  for 
her  honor  is  ours!  " 

"  That  is  also  my  opinion.  Only  leave  the  matter 
to  me,  and  I  promise  that  everything  shall  be  made 
right." 

With  these  words,  Count  Bernhard  hurried  down 
from  the  upper  story,  and  in  a  tone  of  censure  said 
to  his  father's  valet,  who  met  him  on  the  stairs: 

"  Why  were  you  not  at  your  post  last  night  when 
the  countess  went  away? " 

"  When  the  countess  went  away? "  repeated  the  ser- 
vant, with  the  utmost  astonishment. 

"  Is  it  your  custom,  sluggard,  to  sleep  when  your 
master  needs  you?  Why,  a  message  arrived  in  the 
night  that  the  countess  must  immediately  go  to  Norr- 
koping — the  vessel  which  was  to  take  her  to  the  min- 
eral springs  in  Pyrmont  lay  ready  for  sailing." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  gracious  lord  count,  that  neither 
I  nor  any  of  the  other  attendants  knew  the  least  thing 
about  it,"  protested  the  valet,  still  more  surprised. 

"  And  such  sluggards  of  seven  sleepers  are  paid  for 
their  service!  "  continued  Count  Bernhard,  with  a  well- 
feigned  anger.  "  His  grace  and  I  had  no  one  but  my 
Spanish  Jose  to  wait  on  the  countess  when  the  carriage 
came  to  take  her  away.  But  if  his  grace  has  been  too 
indulgent  to  you,  I  will  introduce  another  order  of 
things.  Remember  it  till  another  time,  Soderlund, 
provided  you  wish  to  retain  in  your  place,  and  tell  your 
comrades  the  same.     Where  is  Count  Paul  ?  " 

"  He  went  into  the  dining-room,  asking  after  the 
countess.    But  see — there  comes  the  young  count!  " 


EVENING  STORMS.  67 

At  that  moment,  Paul  came  rushing  up  the  stairs, 
gaily  embraced  his  brother,  and  with  all  the  transport 
of  an  eighteen-year-old  heart  that  is  once  more  con- 
scious of  beating  in  the  ancestral  home,  exclaimed: 

"  Here  you  have  me,  Bernhard!  Oh,  how  glad  I 
am  to  be  with  you  again!  Where  is  my  mother?  And 
how  is  our  father,  Bernhard?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  good  to  see  you  again.  Why,  you  are  as 
tall  as  a  grenadier!  Our  father  is  not  quite  well,  but 
neither  is  he  ill,  and  he  will  be  delighted  to  embrace 
you,"  replied  Count  Bernhard,  with  much  presence  of 
mind  evading  the  one  question  which  was  difficult  to 
answer. 

"  And  my  mother,  Bernhard,  my  mother!  I  hope 
she  is  well?  Where  is  she,  say?  Why  have  I  not  by 
this  time  had  an  opportunity  to  embrace  her?  I  asked 
them  down  stairs,  but  received  incomprehensible  an- 
swers." 

"  I  hope  our  good  mother  is  in  excellent  health," 
replied  the  brother,  with  an  expression  of  much  attach- 
ment assumed  for  the  occasion. 

"  You  hope?  What  does  that  mean?  Is  she  sick, 
or  why  are  you  hoping,  tell  me?  But  then,  where  is 
she  ?  " 

"Oh!  So  you  do  not  know  that  the  countess  has 
gone  away!  You  have  traveled  past  the  letter?  But 
why  did  you  not  write  about  your  coming  home?  If 
our  mother  had  had  the  least  suspicion  of  that,  she 
would  surely  have  put  off  her  journey,  for  it  was  not  so 
very  pressing.  She  might  have  chosen  another  ves- 
sel !  " 

"  Gone  away?  My  mother  gone  away!  "  exclaimed 
Paul  with  amazement,  while  the  tears  started  to  his 
eyes.  "  And  I  was  feeling  so  delighted  that  I  was  now 
going  to  see  her  again!  Oh,  Bernhard!  What  a  mis- 
fortune just  now,  when  I  so  much  needed  a  chance  to 
kiss  her  hand  and  open  to  her  my  whole  heart!  " 

"I  know  it;  I  heard  it  just  now  from  Ljung,  that 


OS  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

you  had  been  suspended  from  the  university.  That 
was  not  right  of  you,  Paul,  to  act  so  rashly.  But  we 
will  consult  together  about  some  expedient,  and  what 
you  now  ought  to  undertake.  We  will  confer  with  our 
father  about  your  future  and  your  carrihe." 

"  My  future — ah  !  that  is  indifferent  to  me;  that  will 
take  care  of  itself.  But  my  mother,  Bernhard, — for 
heaven's  sake,  tell  me,  why  has  my  mother  gone  away  ? 
And  where  has  she  gone  ?  In  her  last  letter  she  did 
not  mention  a  word  about  it." 

"  That  was  natural, — she  did  not  wish  to  make  you 
uneasy.  You  perhaps  do  not  know  that  she  has  for 
some  years  had  a  weak  chest  ?" 

"  She  a  weak  chest  ?  Impossible  !  I  have  studied 
anatomy,  and  I  a-ssure  you,  Bernhard,  that  my  mother 
is  as  strongly  built  as  so  well-formed  a  woman  can  be. 
From  whatever  she  may  suffer,  it  cannot  be  from  a 
weak  chest." 

"  You  have  not  seen  her  for  two  years.  She  has 
grown  very  nervous." 

"  She  nervous  ?  Why,  how  absurd  !  Do  you  think 
she  has  become  debilitated,  like  the  fashion  dolls  of  our 
day  ?  If  any  one  has  sound,  healthy  nerves,  it  is 
my  mother  !  " 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it?  Let  the  doctor  decide 
that.  Doctor  Winge  also  spoke  about  some  liver  com- 
plaint. In  short,  he  prescribed  for  the  countess  a 
journey  to  Pyrmont,  as  unavoidable  for  her  health. 
We  arranged  for  a  vessel  for  her  trip  across,  and 
last  night  the  unexpected  message  arrived  that  the  ship 
was  ready  for  sailing,  and  the  wind  favorable.  Conse- 
quently the  countess  was  obliged  to  start  in  such  haste 
that  scarcely  the  attendants  knew  about  it,  and  there 
you  see  the  reason  why  you  received  incomprehensible 
answers." 


EVENING   STORMS.  69 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    DANGEROUS    SUBJECT. 

*'  A  ND  no  letter  for  me  ? "  asked  Paul,  thought- 
/Y      fully. 

"  It  is  probable  that  the  countess  has  written   by 

post,  her  departure  was  so  unexpected But  our 

father  is  waiting  for  you." 

"Not  a  line  to  me!"  bewailed  the  tender-hearted 
son.     "  How  long  is  she  going  to  stay  at  Pyrmont  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  how  the  treatment  agrees  with 
her.  The  physician  gives  us  the  best  hope  that  we 
can  probably  expect  her  back  in  September  or  October. 
I  beg  you,  Paul,  do  not  act  so  childishly  over  a  simple 
thing  that  has  no  significance.  Our  father  needs  to  see 
happy  faces.  You  can  imagine  that  he  is  pre-occupied, 
and  misses  his  usual  company.  Let  us  amuse  him,  let 
us  divert  him.  Louise  will  be  delighted  to  see  you 
again." 

"  Pardon  me,  Bernhard,  one  question  more  :  How 
did  it  happen  that  my  mother  went  alone  ? — that  no 
one,  not  a  single  friend,  attended  her,  when,  as  you 
say,  she  was  sick  and  suffering  ?  " 

"  Both  our  father  and  Louise  offered  to  go  with  her 
to  Pyrmont,  but  she  refused  so  decidedly  that  we  were 
at  last  obliged  to  yield,"  confidently  replied  Count 
Bertelskold.  "As  to  myself,  you  know  I  must,  without 
delay,  go  to  the  diet,  to  represent  our  family  in  the 
house  of  lords.  It  is  said  that  the  most  important 
questions  are  about  to  arise  there,  and  I  am,  as  you 
remember,  a  decided  Hat.  At  whatever  price,  we 
must  prevent  the  Caps  from  again  coming  into  power, 
and  the  new  king  is  not  to  be  depended  upon.     He 


70  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

will  probably  want  to  fly  higher  than  his  wings  will 
carry  him." 

"I  understand,"  said  Paul,  sorrowfully.  "But 
nothing  would  have  prevented  me  from  going  with  my 
mother.  Why  did  I  not  come  yesterday?  Well,  it  is 
as  it  is.     I  have  an  idea.     Come,  let  us  go  to  father  !  " 

A  moment  later,  Paul  lay  in  his  father's  arms.  A 
sincere  attachment  had  always  closely  united  Count 
Charles  Victor  Bertelskold  and  his  younger  son.  The 
joy  of  the  meeting  was  now,  however,  greatly  mixed 
with  painful  emotions.  With  heartfelt  pleasure,  the 
count  regarded  the  exceedingly  beautiful  youth,  who, 
in  every  feature,  especially  the  dark  lustrous  eyes, 
reminded  him  of  the  mother.  But  this  very  memory 
filled  him  with  sorrow  and  an  embarrassment  which  he 
vainly  sought  to  conceal.  Paul  was  once  more  in  the 
enjoyment  of  his  father's  affection;  but  he  seemed 
to  him  to  have  grown  old  during  those  two  years  which 
had  elapsed  since  their  last  meeting,  and  the  count's 
visible  embarrassment  did  not  escape  his  keen  glance. 
The  two  awaited,  and  the  one  feared  an  explanation  of 
that  enigmatical  event  which  had  blended  so  much  bit- 
terness with  this  reunion. 

"  Paul  knows  all,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  as  he 
exchanged  a  hasty  glance  with  his  father.  "  I  have 
informed  him  of  Doctor  Winge's  regime,  which  com- 
pelled our  mother  to  leave  us  in  such  haste,  to  seek  in 
Pyrmont  a  cure  for  her  liver-complaint,  and  I  have 
told  him,  father,  how  gladly  you  would  have  accom- 
panied madame  if  she  had  not  wished  decidedly  to  go 
alone.  Paul  is  no  longer  a  child,  father,  so  do  not  fear 
any  ridiculous  despair.  He  knows  how  to  tranquillize 
himself  in  so  ordinary  a  matter,  and  we  are  d'accord 
in  hoping  for  the  best.  His  mischance  at  Abo  he  will 
revenge  with  a  double  sucees  at  Upsala  or  Lund." 

"  Tell  me  about  your  misstep  without  fear,"  said  the 
father,  glad  to  lead  the  conversation  away  from  the 
dangerous    subject.     "  Whatever   a   Bertelskold    may 


EVENING   STORMS.  71 

have  done  amiss,  I  am  sure  that  he  never  could  have 
acted  contrary  to  the  claims  of  honor." 

"  Thank  you,  father.  You  have  guessed  perfectly 
right,"  replied  Paul,  and  now  briefly  related  his  bold 
opposition  to  the  ruling  theology,  without  concealing 
that  harshness  to  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  transported.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  I  beg  your  con- 
sent, father,  to  make  amends  for  my  fault  in  another 
manner  than  my  brother  has  proposed.  From  Stock- 
holm, an  expedition  in  the  interest  of  natural  history  is 
soon  to  set  out  for  Spain  and  Africa.  My  friend 
Ljung  has  offered  in  advance  to  get  me  an  opportunity, 
through  Archiater  Linnaeus,  to  take  part  in  it.  I  did 
not  accept  that  proposal  at  the  time,  as  I  was  unpre- 
pared for  those  events  which  afterward  occurred  ;  but  I 
should  now  regard  myself  fortunate  if  I  could  have  the 
privilege  of  making  the  trip,  the  more  so,  as  I  might  on 
the  way  visit  my  mother  in  Pyrmont." 

Count  Bernhard  again  exchanged  a  glance  with  his 
father,  and  hastened  to  reply: 

"  But,  my  dear  Paul,  it  is  impossible  that  you  should 
so  quickly  leave  our  father,  who  needs  your  com- 
pany so  much,  now  that  I  am  going  away.  Have 
patience  till  a  more  convenient  occasion;  and  if  you  will 
partout  make  a  journey,  then  put  it  off  at  least  till 
next  autumn." 

"  I  will  submit  to  my  father's  will,"  responded 
Paul;  "  but  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  my  mother,  if  I  can 
give  her  any  pleasure,  where  she  is  now  alone  and 
perhaps  sick  in  a  strange  land,  I  am  sure  my  father  will 
not  refuse  my  request." 

"You  are  a  good  son,  Paul,  and  we  will  think  more 
particularly  of  your  proposal,"  said  the  count,  greatly 
embarrassed  over  the  dangerous  subject.  "  But  it  must 
seem  reasonable  to  you  that  I  do  not  want  immediately 
to  lose  you  again,  now  that  I  have  got  you  back.  Let 
us  to-day  forget  all  anxieties,  and  think  only  of  the 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


present.  Where  is  Eric  Ljung?  It  is  not  hospitable 
in  us  to  forget  his  presence." 

With  these  words,  and  with  a  brow  which  too  plainly 
depicted  the  anxieties  he  declared  himself  desirous  of 
forgetting",  the  count  went  to  welcome  his  wife's  relative, 
where  that  gentleman,  unpretentious,  and  unaccustomed 
to  finding  liimself  surrounded  by  so  much  magnificence, 
was  waiting  in  the  drawing-room  until  some  one  chose 
to  remember  his  existence. 

Count  Bertelskold  cordially  pressed  the  hand  of  that 
honest  friend,  and  with  ardent  words  thanked  him  for 
the  two  years  Paul,  had  found  in  his  house  a  second 
home.  They  were  soon  immersed  in  a  conversation 
on  that  subject,  and  Paul  found  an  opportunity  to  look 
up  his  little  sister  Vera,  who,  undisturbed  by  the  events 
of  the  night,  and  without  a  suspicion  that  it  had  cost 
her  a  mother,  had  been  sleeping  the  sleep  of  innocence 
when  her  brother  arrived. 

It  was  not  yet  later  than  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  Paul  was  about  to  steal  into  Vera's  sleeping 
room,  when  in  the  door  he  met  Baroness  Louise,  in 
ddshabille,  and  roused  up  from  her  morning  nap  by  her 
waiting-maid,  who  brought  her  the  surprising  report 
of  the  countess's  disappearance. 

"  Whom  do  I  see  ?  Paul  ?"  she  exclaimed.  "  And 
where  is  your  mother  ?" 

"  Ah,  Louise  !"  said  he,  "  why  do  you  ask  me  about 
that?" 

"  I  thought  you  knew,"  she  replied  with  confusion. 
"  Did  not  the  countess  go  to  meet  you  on  the  way  ?" 

"  Meet  me  ?  Good  heavens!  what  can  this  mean  ? 
Why,  my  mother  has  gone  away.  You  must  know  that 
better  than  I." 

"  Gone  away  ?  Yes,  you  are  right, — that  is,  I  sup- 
pose she  has  gone  to  Stockholm,"  responded  the  baro- 
ness, who  plainly  perceived  that  some  mystery  lay 
beneath  all  this,  but  did  not  know  what  to  think  or  say 
about  it.     Fortunately,  Count  Bernhard,  who  had  his 


EVENING  STORMS.  73 

reasons  for  not  letting  his  brother  get  out  of  sight  for 
a  moment,  just  then  came  in. 

"  But  Louise,  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean," 
rejoined  Paul,  perplexed  at  this  ignorance. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  dear,"  Count  Bernhard 
hastened  to  interpose.  "  It  was  not  by  way  of  Stock- 
holm, but  by  way  of  Norrkoping,  that  madame  last 
night  started  for  Pyrmont.  And,  as  she  expressly  for- 
bade our  waking  you,  it  ought  not  to  astonish  Paul  to  see 
your  surprise  at  the  unexpected  departure,"  he  added, 
with  a  look  at  his  sister,  and  uncertain  as  to  how  far 
she  had  compromised  herself  on  the  dangerous  subject. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

INEXPLICABLE      ENIGMAS. 

PAUL  did  not  answer,  but  something  undefined 
remained  in  his  soul.  He  went  to  his  sister  Vera, 
and  found  the  little  one  just  awakened,  but  still  in  bed, 
and  occupied  with  looking  at  her  pretty,  white  foot, 
which  she  had  thrust  out  from  under  the  coverlet,  and 
was  coquetting  before  herself. 

When  Vera  saw  the  tall,  strange  young  man  in  the 
door,  she  drew  the  coverlet  over  her  head,  and  could 
not  be  prevailed  upon  to  let  it  come  out  of  that  law- 
protected  haven.  But  when  her  brother,  with  tender 
force,  freed  her  brown  curly  head  from  the  covering, 
and  she  at  last  recognized  that  dear  voice,  which  for  a 
long  time  she  had  not  heard,  Vera's  eyes  beamed  with 
a  sunshine  which  resembled  her  mother's  in  her  happy 
days,  and  it  was  not  long  before  she  fiew  up,  lightly 
costumed  as  she  was,  and  now  laughing,  now  weeping, 
hung  around  the  beloved  brother's  neck.  Ever  since 
the  birth  of  the  younger  children,  the  Bertelskold  family 

4 


74  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

had  been  two  cloven  halves  of  the  same  apple,  and 
these  two  had  continually  joined  closer  together  against 
the  coldness  of  the  elder  brother  and  sister.  Now 
Vera  had  her  Paul  back,  now  everything  was  again 
well,  now  they  would  play,  as  they  used  to  do,  in  the 
green  park,  and  now — she  was  sure  of  that — that 
naughty  Bernhard  would  no  more  venture  to  shoot  her 
little  lambs.  Within  a  few  minutes  she  had  told  and 
asked  him  a  thousand  things,  without  waiting  for  reply, 
and  the  end  was  always  a  cry  of  delight  over — mamma's 
happiness. 

"  But — why,  you  are  taller  than  mamma  !"  said  she, 
suddenly  interrupting  herself,  as  she  blushed,  and  with 
embarrassment  stole  back  beneath  the  protecting  cover- 
let. '•  Now  you  must  be  good,  and  go  away  until  I 
am  dressed ;  will  not  take  five  minutes.  I  want 
to  see  how  mamma  looks  when  she  sees  you. 
Why  did  she  not  come  with  you  ?  Why  has  she 
not  come  to  say  my  prayer  with  me,  as  she  does  every 
morning?  One  day  last  winter  she  forgot  it,  when 
papa  was  sick,  and  that  day  there  was  no  morning 
prayer  at  all,  but,  Paul,  that  day  went  badly.  I  spoiled 
Bergflygt's  prettiest  pot  plant,  I  sprained  my  foot,  I  had 
toothache,  I  quarreled  with  tall  Karin  in  the  kitchen, 
and  got  terrible  scoldings.  It  is  never  pleasant  when 
we  have  forgotten  to  say  our  morning  prayer." 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  mamma  has  gone  away  ?" 
inquired  Paul,  with  strange  feelings. 

Vera  looked  at  him  with  wide  open  eyes.  "  Gone 
away  ?"  said  she.  "  No  one  will  make  me  believe  that. 
Do  you  think  I  am  as  easily  fooled  as  I  used  to  be  ?" 

"  I  understand.  She  would  not  waken  you,  when 
she  was  so  unexpectedly  obliged  to  go  last  night." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  How  can  you  be  so  simple  ? 
My  mamma  go  away  without  saying  good-bye  to  me  ? 
No,  they  have  been  making  you  believe  that,  to  play  a 
trick  on  you.  You  will  see,  when  you  go  out,  that 
mamma  is  hiding  behind  the  door,  and  will  cover  your 


EVENING  STORMS.  75 

eyes  with  both  her  hands,  and  say,  '  Guess  who  it  can 
be!'  And  then  you  see  they  will  laugh  at  you  for 
allowing  yourself  to  be  fooled." 

What  wonderful  power  lies  in  the  faith  of  a  child  ! 
In  little  Vera's  firm  confidence,  there  was  something  so 
contagious,  that  Paul  hastily  opened  the  door,  to  see  if 
it  was  not  all  a  miserable  jest,  and  if  his  mother  was 
not  standing  behind  the  door,  smiling,  and  ready  with 
both  hands  to  cover  his  eyes,  and  say  those  dear  words 
that  she  used  to  say  when  he  was  a  child,  "  Guess  who 
it  is  !" 

But  there  was  no  one  behind  the  door,  and  again 
he  sadly  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  Vera's  bed. 

"  I  suppose,  though,  our  mother  sometime  said 
that  she  was  going  away  for  her  health  ?"  he  asked. 

*■  She  never  did  so.  Why  should  she  say  what  she 
never  intended  to  do  ?  My  mamma  cannot  say  what 
is  not  true,"  replied  the  girl,  with  much  decision. 

"  But  try  to  remember  !  Perhaps  she  said  some- 
thing, for  instance  yesterday,  that  you  should  be  obedi- 
ent when  she  was  gone,  or  that  you  should  not  forget 
your  morning  and  evening  prayer,  although  she  could 
not  for  awhile  pray  with  you." 

"  She  did  not  say  that.  I  only  saw  that  she  was 
very  sad  sometimes,  when  Bernhard  was  bad  to  her, 
and  called  her  madame.  Mamma  did  not  like  to  be 
called  madame,  although  it  is  a  polite  word,  she  said, 
and  is  used  in  speaking  to  empresses  and  queens." 

"  Was  not  Bernhard  polite  to  mamma  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  is  always  polite  when  he  is  real 
abusive." 

"  What  did  mamma  say  when  you  came  to  bid  her 
good  night  ?" 

"  I  kissed  her  hand,  and  she  kissed  my  forehead. 
*  Sleep  sweetly,'  said  she." 

"  Nothing  more  ?" 

"  Yes,  afterward  she  said,  '  Tell  P-eata  not  to  forget 
to  put  out  the  light !'     It  was  dark  last  night,  although 


7()  TIMES  Ot   ALCHEMY. 

it  is  sumnier.  We  had  company,  and  went  to  bed  later 
than  usual.  When  mamma  left  me,  she  turned  around 
in  the  door,  and  said,  '  God  protect  you  !'  " 

"  But  nothing  about  a  journey  ?" 

"  Nonsense  with  your  journey  !  Go  away,  so  I  can 
get  up,  and  you  shall  see  that  I  will  find  my  mamma!" 

Paul  left  her,  and  went  out  into  the  park,  to  seek  in 
nature  that  serenity  he  lacked  in  his  gloomy  heart. 
"  It  is  nevertheless  so,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  She  has 
gone  without  a  farewell,  in  order  to  spare  both  herself 
and  Vera  the  first  pain  of  separation." 

Meantime  Count  Bernhard  was  called  to  his  father. 

"  This  dissimulation  is  becoming  insufferable  and 
unworthy,"  said  the  old  count,  whose  frank,  knightly 
character  could  not  reconcile  itself  with  that  strange 
intrigue  in  which  he  saw  himself  involved  against  his 
will.  "  I  cannot  endure  to  pretend  a  tranquillity  before 
Paul,  while  I  am  obliged  to  deceive  him,  and  am  myself 
a  prey  to  doubt  and  anxiety.  We  must  put  an  end  to 
it,  and  I  am  prepared  to  tell  him  all." 

"I  conjure  you,  father,  not  to  be  precipitate," 
pleaded  Count  Bernhard.  "Before  we  with  certainty 
know  anything  about  the  disappearance  of  the  count- 
ess, and  the  means  of  making  good  her  sauve  qui  pcut, 
we  should  risk  everything  if  we  confided  this  family 
secret  to  a  hot-headed  boy,  a  Gil  Bias,  a  Don  Quixote, 
who  will  put  heaven  and  earth  in  motion  to  find  his 
mother  again.  A  little  more  patience,  father ;  Louise 
is  now  initiated  au  fond  des  c/ioses,  and  we  three  will 
together  make  every  exertion  to  discover  and  bring 
back  the  fugitive.  If  we  are  successful,  as  I  have  every 
reason  to  expect,  it  will  afterward  be  easy  to  give  out 
that  madame  has  for  instance  arrived  too  late  at  Norr- 
koping.  Upon  her  arrival  there,  the  vessel  had  already 
sailed;  and,  as  some  celebrated  physician  has  prescrib- 
ed another  treatment  for  her,  for  instance,  at  Ramlosa, 
she  returns,  if  it  must  needs  be  so.  For  heaven's  sake, 
no  uneasiness,  no  questions, — they  might  betray  us,  for 


EVENING   STORMS.  77 

the  servants  are  as  yet  only  half  convinced.  But 
when  they  see  us  perfectly  tranquil,  they  will  at  last 
believe  the  fable  I  have  had  circulated;  we  shall  gain 
time,  and  on  that  depends  everything." 

"  What  a  shame,  to  be  obliged,  like  a  criminal,  to 
avoid  and  deceive  my  own  servants,  my  own  children!" 

"  And  for  whose  sake  are  we  doing  it  ?  Is  it  not 
all  for  the  sake  of  her  who  has  brought  all  this  trouble 
upon  us  ?  " 

"  You,  who  have  driven  your  second  mother  into 
distress  and  exile,  forget  your  own  share  in  it  !"  ejacu- 
lated the  father,  with  exasperation. 

"  Father,  I,  too,  might  answer  you  something  on 
that  point,  but  we  have  no  time  for  reproaches  over 
what  has  happened.  We  must  together  try  to  make 
good  its  consequences.  Once  more  let  me  act,  and  all 
shall  be  well;  but  if  you  prematurely  frustrate  my 
efforts,  the  rupture  will  be  irreparable,  and  scandal  is 
inevitable." 

"Then  do  what  is  in  your  power,"  said  the  count, 
reluctantly.  "  But  within  three  days  everything  must 
be  clear.  Longer  than  that,  I  cannot  continue  in  the 
role  of  a  deceiver." 

A  haughty,  scarcely  perceptible  smile  curled  the 
lip  of  Count  Bernhard,  as  he  left  his  father,  and  went 
to  give  necessary  instructions  to  his  Spanish  valet,  the 
only  one  who  possessed  his  confidence.  He  himself 
went  to  gather,  with  the  greatest  caution  and  craft, 
every  trace  which  could  lead  to  the  discovery  of  the 
countess's  flight  and  present  place  of  abode. 

Her  flight  must  have  occurred  between  one  o'clock 
in  the  night,  when  she  left  her  husband's  room,  and 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  servants  began 
to  stir.  She  had  taken  with  her  a  part  of  her  clothes, — 
only  some  linen  and  a  few'  every-day  garments,  it  is 
true,  but  more,  however,  than  she  had  herself  been 
able  to  carry.  She  must  thus  have  had  an  assistant ; 
but  whom  ? 


78  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Count  Bertelskcild  satisfied  himself  that  no  fresh 
wheel-tracks  led  from  the  Falkby  grounds  to  the  high- 
way, with  the  exception  of  the  chaise  which  had 
brought  Paul  and  his  companion  hither.  So  the  count- 
ess must  either  have  walked  to  the  highway,  or  fled 
across  the  sea,  and  the  latter  supposition  seemed  to  be 
confirmed  by  the  fact  that  one  of  the  boats  moored  at 
the  landing  yesterday  had  disappeared.  But  she  had 
not  possibly  been  able  to  venture  out  alone  across  the 
water.  Some  one  must  have  rowed  her  across,  and  had 
perhaps  not  yet  returned.     Who  was  that  boatman  ? 

Count  Bernard  secretly  informed  himself  whether 
any  of  the  servants  of  the  place  chanced  to  be  away. 
No  one  was  missing.  His  suspicions  fell  upon  Berg- 
fiygt ;  but  the  old  gardener,  brusque  yet  tranquil,  was 
found  busied  as  of  old  with  his  plants. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GATHERING    STORMS. 

IN  the  evening,  Spanish  Jose  came  back  from  his  in- 
vestigations, and  made  his  report.  Under  the  pre- 
text of  buying  horses,  he  had  roved  about  through  the 
whole  neighborhood,  but  all  in  vain.  He  had  offered 
a  large  reward  to  any  one  who  could  get  on  track  of  a 
pretended  thief,  that  in  the  night  had  stolen  his 
master's  fowling-piece;  and  a  wandering  Visigoth,  who 
had  been  seen  in  the  neighborhood  the  same  night, 
had  been  pointed  out  to  him. 

"You  are  an  incapable  blockhead!"  said  his  master, 
with  vexation.  "  I  have  discovered  more  than  you, — 
one  of  the  boats  at  the  landing  is  gone." 

"  Per  Dio,  signore,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "  I  will  be 
hanged  if  any  one  has  used  the  boat  but  myself,  when 


EVENING   STORMS.  79 

I  rowed  across  the  water  at  your  grace's  own  com- 
mand." 

Count  Bernhard  bit  his  lip.  "Here,"  said  he,  "are 
ten  specie  dollars  for  you  when  you  effect  something, 
and  a  hundred  when  you  procure  me  the  whole  truth 
about  what  we  are  seeking." 

"  G facias,  signore,  you  shall  be  satisfied  with  me," 
replied  the  valet,  with  a  sly  wink. 

At  Falkby  there  was  one  more  who  spent  the  whole 
day  in  searching,  and  that  was  Vera.  She  could  not 
possibly  be  convinced  that  her  mother  had  gone  away 
from  her  without  saying  good-bye.  She  began  by  hunt- 
ing through  the  whole  house,  from  garret  to  cellar, 
from  the  massive  walnut  wardrobe  to  the  little  drawers 
in  her  doll-press.  Not  finding  anyone  there,  she  insti- 
tuted a  search  in  the  garden  and  hot-houses,  with  the 
secret  hope  of  finding  her  mother  hidden  behind  a 
bush  or  a  plant-jar.  From  the  garden  she  went  to  the 
park,  from  there  to  Bergflygt,  from  there  to  the  labor- 
ers' cottages  and  the  dependents  of  the  estate,  con- 
tinually with  the  same  question,  if  some  one  had  not 
seen  her  mamma,  whom  they  had  stolen  from  her. 
And  when  no  one  could  give  an  answer  to  that  strange 
question.  Vera  declared  that  she  would  go  "  as  far  as 
the  road  reached  "  on  the  same  errand,  until  at  last 
hunger,  more  than  Beata,  her  bonne,  prevailed  on  her 
to  return  home. 

If  Count  Bernhard  had  not  so  deeply  disdained 
those  base  mortals  who  were  not  born  to  a  title,  he 
would  have  guarded  against  all  those  whispers  to  which 
Vera's  childlike  inquiries  gave  an  increased  rapidity. 
The  domestics  of  Falkby  were,  as  the  count  had  rightly 
observed,  only  half  convinced  of  the  singular  journey 
to  Pyrmont  and  Norrkoping,  of  which  no  one  had  be- 
forehand known  a  word  ;  and  what  were  they  to  think 
when  the  youngest  lady,  the  darling  and  pet  of  the 
countess,  knew  still  less  than  they  ?  Before  the  day 
passed,  the  rumor  of  the  countess's  sudden  disappear- 


80  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

ance,  exaggerated  and  interpreted  in  twenty  ways, 
had  spread  from  Falkby  to  all  the  extensive  surround- 
ing estate. 

And  now  opinions  were  divided  about  the  charac- 
ter of  the  countess.  Her  great  beneficence  toward  all, 
united  with  so  much  dignity,  had  won  her  many  de- 
voted friends,  while  others  had  not  yet  forgotten  those 
rumors  which  had  been  current  about  her  Finnish 
black  art.  "  She  was  an  angel  from  heaven,  and  there- 
fore was  not  allowed  to  live,"  exclaimed  some.  "  She 
was  a  witch  from  the  abyss,  and  her  time  was  out,"  was 
the  opinion  of  others. 

For  the  rumor  soon  became  general  that  the  count- 
ess was  no  longer  in  existence,  that  during  the  past 
night  she  had  suddenly  vanished,  it  was  not  known 
how  ;  and,  while  some  conjectured  that  she  had  jumped 
into  the  sea,  others  ventured  to  throw  out  suspicions  of 
a  violent  death — at  whose  hand,  care  was  taken  not  to 
say  aloud,  but  each  had  an  opinion  of  his  own.  In  short, 
the  whole  parish  fell  into  a  general  consternation. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  countess  of  the  manor  had  really 
been  a  good  mother  to  all  her  dependents;  and  even  a 
witch,  of  such  amiable  qualities,  could  not  wnthout  re- 
gret, without  an  uproar  in  all  hearts,  vanish  from  the 
world  so  suddenly,  so  mysteriously. 

Ignorant  of  all  this,  Paul  went  out  in  the  evening, 
with  Eric  Ljung,  to  show  him  the  pretty  environments 
of  the  castle,  and  himself  to  re-survey  the  places  which 
had  been  dear  to  him  from  childhood's  days.  Through 
the  park  they  passed  to  the  sea,  and  thence  across  the 
meadows  to  the  little  church  and  village,  which  en- 
joyed the  most  charming  site  in  the  valley  below  that 
elevation  where  the  lordly  castle  flaunted  its  mag- 
nificence. The  evening  was  mild  and  sunny,  the  land- 
scape was  verdant  with  the  first  beauty  of  summer. 
The  two  ramblers  were  charmed.  In  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  those  fine  cultivated  fields,  and  the  new  buildings 
with  which  his  ancestral  home  had  been  embellished 


EVENING   STORMS.  81 

in  late  years,  Paul  forgot  his  sorrows,  and  his  botani- 
cal friend  found,  in  the  splendid  flora  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, an  enjoyment  which  outweighed  all  its  other 
beauties. 

"  Come,"  said  Paul,  as  he  directed  his  steps  toward 
the  church,  "  it  is  Saturday  evening,  the  time  when  the 
village-boys  play  ball  on  the  church-hill." 

They  were  soon  standing  at  the  end  of  the  valley, 
which,  next  to  the  church,  was  the  common  play-ground 
of  the  young;  but,  instead  of  the  game,  a  group  of 
twenty  or  thirty  persons,  inhabitants  of  the  village, 
who  had  left  their  work  earlier  than  usual,  were  now 
seen.  They  seemed  to  be  earnestly  talking  together 
about  some  important  subject ;  a  cloud  of  anxiety  lay 
on  the  faces  of  the  greater  number,  and  some  of  the 
women  were  shedding  tears. 

"The  good  people  !  "  said  Paul  to  his  friend,  "  they 
must  have  something  on  their  minds  which  disturbs 
them.  Come,  let  us  ask  them  the  cause  of  their  trou- 
ble.    Perhaps  we  can  give  them  some  good  counsel." 

Paul  Bertelskold,  like  his  sister  Vera,  had  been  a 
favorite  with  the  retainers  of  the  estate.  They  had 
already,  through  their  mother,  stood  nearer  to  the  peo- 
ple than  their  most  noble  brother  and  sister,  and  from 
childhood  they  had  learned  to  acknowledge  human 
worth,  even  in  the  inhabitants  of  cots.  Often  had  Paul 
taken  part  in  the  games  of  the  village-boys  ;  all  knew 
him,  all  used  to  answer  his  friendly  greeting  heartily, 
and  now  when  he  had  returned  after  so  long  an  absence, 
the  noise  of  the  crowd  suddenly  ceased,  but  when 
they  became  aware  of  his  presence,  no  one  greeted  him, 
no  one  bade  him  welcome,  all  paused  in  embarrassment, 
and  any  one  who  could  do  so  stole  silently  away. 

"  What  now,  Peter  ?  "  said  Paul  to  one  of  his  former 
playmates,  a  young  fellow  who  reluctantly  lifted  his 
blue  cap,  "  have  you  stared  yourself  blind  at  the  village- 
girls,  that  you  do  not  recognize  me,  since  the  last  time 
we  played  foot-ball  at  the  cross-roads  ?  " 
F 


S-i  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

The  fellow  scratched  his  fore-top,  and  turned  on 
his  heel  without  replying. 

"  And  you,  Martensson,"  continued  Paul,  as  he 
turned  to  an  athletic  peasant,  who  had  been  head- ser- 
vant at  the  manor,  "  how  is  it  with  you,  old  man  ?  Is 
your  old  horse  alive  yet  ? — the  one  that  always  threw 
me  when  I  was  going  to  show  my  skill,  and  always 
kicked  up  when  2i\vj  one  tickled  him  on  the  neck  ? " 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  peasant,  with  wide 
open  eyes,  "no  evil  has  befallen  iis^ 

There  was  an  emphasis  on  that  ?/i-,  which  made 
Paul  ask  again. 

"  Then  why  are  you  standing  here  and  looking 
surly,  as  though  the  enemy  were  in  the  land  ?  What  is 
it  you  are  consulting  about  so  earnestly  to-night  ?  " 

"What  should  we  consult  about?"  was  the  reply. 
"  When  grand  gentlemen  ride,  the  peasant  steps  out  of 
the  road." 

"  If  I  were  a  peasant,  I  would  ride  too,"  merrily 
replied  the  young  man.  "  And  you.  Mother  Risa,  who 
make  the  best  cheeses  in  the  village,  have  you  forgot- 
ten, my  good  woman,  that  I  was  one  of  your  best  cus- 
tomers ? " 

"  God  preserve  the  gracious  young  lord  from  all 
the  evil  of  these  evil  times  !  "  replied  the  old  woman, 
courtesjnng  to  the  very  ground,  while  the  tears  rolled 
down  her  withered  cheeks. 

"  Is  it  such  an  affliction  to  you  to  see  me  again,  or 
has  Martensson's  dog  swallowed  your  whole  tub  of 
sour-milk  ?  " 

*'  Behold,  when  one  is  young,  he  can  still  be  gay, 
though  that  has  happened  which  never  ought  to  have 
happened,"  bewailed  the  old  woman,  as  she  wept  still 
more  bitterly. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  then,  that  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Heaven  preserve  me  from  ever  letting  it  pass  my 
lips.  She  was  so  gentle-hearted,  and  fair  to  the  eyes, 
— we  shall  certainly  never  have  another  like  her.     But 


EVENING  STORMS.  83 

we  are  all  miserable  creatures.  No  one  knows  the 
day  or  the  hour  when  the  Lord  shall  call  us." 

"  Poor  old  woman  !  Have  you  lost  your  daughter  ? 
I  recollect, — she  left  this  world  four  years  ago." 

The  old  woman  was  silent.  To  his  surprise,  Paul 
observed  that  all  the  rest  had  stolen  away,  and  as  his 
companion  had  also  made  use  of  the  opportunity  to 
examine  a  few  kinds  of  lichen  on  the  stones,  he  found 
himself  alone  with  the  old  woman. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  And  why  does  everybody 
steal  away,  as  though  he  had  an  evil  conscience?  " 

The  old  woman  looked  cautiously  around  her,  and 
having  satisfied  herself  that  no  one  heard  her,  leaned 
toward  the  young  man's  shoulder,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear: 

"  Beware  of  the  Spanish  gypsy!  " 

"  Jose?     What  does  that  mean?  " 

"It  is  he!" 

"I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  God  grant  you  open  eyes  and  ears,  gracious  mas- 
ter, for  we  live  in  an  evil  world,  and  none  of  us  is  safe 
from  the  arrows  of  darkness.  Beware,  and  remember 
that  I  have  said  it.  The  same  ax  which  has  felled  the 
mature  tree  in  its  very  prime,  may  also  fell  the  young 
shoot  in  the  flower  of  his  beauty.  Behold,  the  enemy 
has  gone  forth  over  the  ripened  ear;  why  should  his 
foot  not  trample  the  tender  blade?  " 

''  But,  Mother  Risa,  I  do  not  understand  a  word  of 
all  that!  " 

"  Would  to  God  you  might  never  understand  a  let- 
ter of  it!  "  muttered  the  old  woman,  as  with  a  courtesy 
she  departed,  and  jogged  slowly  back  to  the  village. 


84  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    RIFT    IN    THE    ICE. 

LIFE  has  sometimes  been  likened  to  an  ice-covered 
sea,  on  which  careless  man  marches  with  light 
foot,  and  where  sledges  speed  forward  without  a 
thought  of  the  brittleness  of  the  bridge,  or  of  the  deep 
awaiting  below,  until  the  ice  now  slowly  thaws,  now 
suddenly  breaks,  and  the  careless  crowd  disappears. 

Sometimes,  too,  when  the  skater  darts  forward  on 
his  bright  way,  a  smothered  report  is  heard,  and  when 
he  looks  around,  he  sees  a  fissure  in  the  ice.  It  may 
be  a  warning,  or  it  may  signify  nothing.  The  thought- 
less one,  untroubled,  continues  his  course,  but  the  wise 
looks  about  him  for  the  shore. 

Paul  Bertelskold  now  found  himself  on  just  such 
an  insecure  sheet  of  ice;  and  those  unexplained  hints, 
those  mysterious  warnings,  which  he  had  received  in 
the  village,  had  made  a  deeper  impression  on  his  dis- 
heartened mood  than  he  himself  cared  to  admit. 
Thoughtful  and  silent,  he  walked  at  the  side  of  Eric 
Ljung  back  to  the  castle;  when  on  the  narrow  road 
which  led  to  the  shore,  and  where  the  grooms  used  to 
ride  the  horses  to  water,  he  saw  Rasmus,  the  Skanian, 
coming  in  a  singular  manner,  dangling  on  his  horse's 
back. 

The  boy  was  not  known  to  be  in  the  habit  of  taking 
a  glass  too  much,  and  Paul  asked  him  what  ailed   him. 

Instead  of  answering,  Rasmus  began  to  sob  worse 
than  a  syrup-machine, — if  such  things  had  at  that  time 
been  in  use. 

His  young  master  was  not  in  a  good  humor,  and 
threateningly  raised  the  riding-whip. 


EVENING   STORMS.  85 

"Hold  the  animal  still,  and  quit  jerking  the  halter! 
Answer  me;  are  you  sick?" 

''  I  am  conjured  !  "  sobbed  the  boy. 

"  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  I  am  bewitched." 

"  Who  has  bewitched  you?" 

"  I  don't  dare  to  tell  you.  The  gracious  young 
nobleman  is  so  angry." 

"Will  you  answer?"  and  the  riding -whip  was 
raised. 

"  If  the  young  nobleman  will  promise  not  to  be 
angry,  I'm  sure  it  shall  come  out,"  replied  the  boy, 
with  a  desperate  effort  to  silence  the  syrup-machine. 

"  I  promise  you  a  flogging  if  you  keep  still,  and  a 
plat  if  you  speak  honestly,"  responded  Paul,  who  sus- 
pected that  the  desperate  sobs  of  the  boy  had  some 
connection  with  the  strange  demeanor  of  the  people 
in  the  village. 

"In  that  case,  I  will  tell  everything  as  it  is,"  said 
Rasmus,  "  for  you  see,  young  sir,  you  will  find  it  out 
for  all  that,  and  it  is  not  my  fault  that  the  late  countess 
was  so  bewitched.  For  you  see  she  was  a  Christian 
being  enough,  though  matters  are  said  to  be  not  just 
right  in  Finmark  and  Russia,  where  they  say  she  was 
born.     God  bless  her  soul." 

"  What  countess? " 

"  Well,  you  see  that  was  the  knot,  as  the  shoe- 
maker said  when  he  got  a  flea  in  his  waxed-end. 
Who  else  should  it  be  than  the  late  countess,  your 
mother  ? " 

"  Are  you  crazy,  or  has  fat  Hans  been  making  a  fool 
of  you  with  himself  at  the  alehouse?  " 

"  See,  now  the  young  lord  is  getting  angry  again," 
said  the  boy,  with  a  discreet  movement  to  one  side. 

"Why,  you  see  I  am  calm!  "  said  Paul,  while  all 
his  blood  was  boiling. 

"  I  could  believe  you  knew  about  it  already,  sir," 
continued  Rasmus,  still  ready,  in  case  of  necessity,  to 


80  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

save  himself  by  a  hasty  flight.  "  For  you  see  I  gos- 
siped a  Htlle,  yesterday,  about  llie  kite  countess's  black 
art,  and  I  got  paitl  for  it  by  the  master.  Ikit  the 
tongue  is  an  evil  thing,  as  the  old  woman  said  when 
she  took  drops,  and  last  night  I  had  the  nightmare. 
When  I  got  up  my  head  was  like  lead,  and  the  evil  one 
has  been  pinching  me  all  day  in  the  end  of  my  little 
finger.  I  cannot  stand  and  I  cannot  walk,  and  when 
I  try  to  ride,  every  fence-post  dances  like  a  wall-flower 
at  a  feast.  That,  you  see,  is  what  I  have  got  for  hav- 
ing such  a  big  mouth." 

"Go  and  lie  down;  you  are  sick!  "  and  Paul,  who 
now  began  to  understand  that  the  boy  was  delirious. 

"  It  was  not  I  that  made  off  with  her,"  continued 
Rasmus,  confusedly.  "  It  was  Joseph,  you  see,  sir. 
Last  night,  when  I  could  not  sleep,  I  went  to  the  win- 
dow, and  it  was  half  dark  yet,  when  I  saw  her  grace 
go  across  the  yard,  just  as  she  went  here  in  the  world, 
and  a  fellow  went  with  her,  who  carried  her  things, 
and  they  went  to  the  sea,  but  from  the  sea  she  never 
came  back,  you  see,  sir.  People  say  that  such  folks 
float  awhile  like  chips  on  the  water,  and  then,  when 
their  time  is  come,  they  sink  like  stones  straight 
down  to  the  bottom." 

"  Home  with  you!  "  exclaimed  Paul,  and  seizing  the 
horse  by  the  bridle,  he  led  it  to  the  house,  where  Ras- 
mus was  shut  up  and  put  to  bed. 

There  was  one  word  in  his  ravings  that  was  like  the 
rift  in  the  ice,  and  that  was  "  the  late  countess." 

At  the  steps.  Vera  was  awaiting  her  brother.  "  I 
have  something  to  tell  you,"  she  whispered.  "  I  was 
standing  by  the  kitchen  door,  without  any  one's  seeing 
me,  and  heard  tall  Karin  tell  the  others  that  no  carriage 
had  been  here  last  night.  '  It  is  not  true  that  mamma 
has  gone  away,'  she  said.  '  No  carriage  has  been  here, 
and  no  one  on  all  the  place  has  known  of  any.'  I 
could  not  hear  what  else  she  told,  but  she  said  mean 
things  about  Bernhard's  Jose." 


EVENING  STORMS.  87 

"  Are  you  a  Lady  Bertelskold,  and  listen  at  the 
kitchen  door  to  the  gossip  of  the  servant  girls?  "  said 
the  brother,  chidingly,  while  a  shudder  quivered 
through  every  joint. 

"  Forgive  me!  "  pleaded  the  girl.  "  I  will  not  do  it 
again.  Now  you  hear  our  mother  has  not  gone  away; 
she  has  hidden  herself  in  order  to  frighten  us  and  make 
us  real  glad  when  she  comes  back." 

Paul  kissed  her  without  replying.  It  was  now  his 
turn  to  lose  equipoise.  He  hurried  to  seek  his  father, 
with  the  firm  resolution  to  get  light  in  this  terrible 
darkness,  from  which  those  awful  words,  "  the  late 
countess,"  continually  sounded,  like  a  passing-bell,  in 
his  ears. 

The  count  had  ridden  out  to  look  at  a  new  im- 
provement, and  had  not  yet  returned.  Paul  met,  in- 
stead, his  sister  Louise,  who  was  frightened  at  his 
altered  appearance. 

"Good  heavens!  how  pale  you  are  !  Are  you  not 
well  ? "  asked  the  baroness,  who  cherished  for  her  hand- 
some younger  brother  all  the  affection  her  volatile 
heart,  made  captive  by  worldly  thoughts,  was  capable 
of  holding  and  which  she  had  not  already  bestowed  on 
the  elder  brother. 

"  Where  is  my  mother  ?  "  said  Paul. 

"  Madame?"  inquired  Louise,  confused  and  start- 
led. "  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  What  do  I  know  about 
it?" 

That  "  madame  "  which  his  mother  had  not  been 
able  to  endure  from  her  step-children,  added  oil  to  the 
fire. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  after  madame  ;  I  ask  you, 
where  is  my  mother  !  "  exclaimed  Paul,  as  he  seized 
his  sister  passionately  by  the  arm. 

"But,  Paul,  my  dear  Paul,  I  beg  you  calm  your- 
self !  You  are  sick  ;  you  have  caught  cold  on  the 
journey." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Louise.     I  am  not  sick,  I  am  not 


8S  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

insane,  although  I  might  become  so,  from  everything 
I  have  heard  during  the  last  hour.  I  will  be  calm, — 
you  see  I  am  calm.  Everything  is  as  it  was,  the  sun  is 
shining,  Falkby  is  still  standing  in  its  place,  I  do  not 
pull  down  its  walls,  I  do  not  go  armed  with  sword  and 
pistols,  as  in  a  robber's  den.  I  ask  you  only,  where  is 
my  mother  ?  You  are  my  sister,  I  know,  and  Bernhard 
is  my  brother,  and  my  father  is  my  father,  and  I  am 
myself  ;  but  where  is  my  mother  ?  I  want  to  know 
what  you  have  done  with  my  mother!  " 

"  Let  go  my  arm  !  I  do  not  understand  what  you 
say,"  exclaimed  the  baroness,  almost  as  pale  as  her 
brother,  and  nearly  fainting. 

At  that  moment  entered  Count  Bernhard,  who,  all 
day  occupied  with  his  extensive  correspondence,  had 
been  unable  to  watch  the  steps  of  Paul,  as  he  had  pro- 
posed to  do. 

"  Save  me  !  Save  me  !  Paul  has  become  insane!  " 
shrieked  Louise,  and  sunk  powerless  in  Count  Bern- 
hard's  arms. 

Paul  let  go  her  arm,  and  with  blazing  eyes  turned 
to  his  brother. 

"  Take  her  !  Guard  her  with  glass  and  a  frame, 
the  poor  Louise,  who  has  not  the  courage  to  answer 
me:  '  I  have  lied! '     It  is  now  your  turn!  " 


CHAPTER    XVL 

THE    STORM    BREAKS    LOOSE. 


IT  was  not  in  vain  that  Bernhard  Bertelskold  had 
studied  the  celebrated  art  of  the  diplomat — on 
the  most  critical  occasions  to  maintain  an  imperturbable 
calmness ;  with  the  greatest  tranquillity  declare  black 
to  be  white  ;  alternately  to  irritate  and  soothe  his  an- 


EVENING   STORMS.  89 

tagonist,  and  finally  weary  hina  out,  in  order,  at  the  first 
favorable  opportunity,  to  disarm  him,  and  regain  lost 
ground.  He  perceived  that  Paul  knew  something, 
and  resolved  to  let  him  finish  his  raving,  in  the  hope 
that  that  something  was  not  everything. 

"  My  dear  Paul,"  said  he,  "  if  you  have  learned 
such  wild  domestic  manners  in  Finland,  it  does  not 
surprise  me  that  your  learned  friends  at  Abo  have  sent 
you  hither  to  be  civilized.  Here,  Louise,  is  a  glass  of 
water!  Faint  no  more,  my  sweet  friend,  although  I 
admit  that  it  becomes  you  excellently.  There — sit 
down!  Paul  is  only  waiting  to  kiss  your  hand  and  beg 
your  pardon." 

"  Have  no  uneasiness,  it  is  past  now,"  said  the  bar- 
oness, as  she  recovered  herself  with  a  readiness  which 
showed  that  this  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  fainted. 
'*  My  presence  will  probably  be  superfluous,  and  I  beg 
to  leave  the  gentlemen  alone." 

Count  Bernhard  offered  her  his  arm. 

"  Be  careful,"  she  whispered,  "  he  is  wild!  " 

"  I  know  the  art  of  taming  wild  colts,"  replied  the 
diplomat. 

Paul  found  time  to  regain  self-possession,  but  his 
blood  continued  to  boil.  He  was  like  a  vessel  of  burn- 
ing oil,  which  at  the  least  disturbance  is  spilled  over 
the  brim. 

"  I  have  asked  Louise  where  my  mother  is,"  said 
he,  with  gloomy  resoluteness,  while  his  dark  eyes  rested 
on  his  brother  with  a  dangerous,  ill-boding  calm. 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Count  Bernhard — that  famous, 
Swedish  jasa,  which  can  be  seething  hot,  or  freezing 
cold,  friendly  or  hostile,  polite  or  insultmg,  according 
to  how  it  is  spoken.     "And  what  did  she  answer?  " 

"  Nothing.     And  nothing  is  too  little." 

"  There  are  questions  to  which  nothing  is  the  best 
answer,"   said    Count    Bernhard,    indifferently.     "  Be 
reasonable,  my  dear  Paul,  and  throw  aside  your  silly 
notions.     I  hope  madame  is  very  well." 
4* 


00  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Where  !  " 

"  In  Norrkiiping,  of  course, — in  case  she  has  not,  as 

1  suppose,  already  taken  ship." 

"  Vou  He!  " 

"What?  Another  proof  of  your  Finnish  education. 
I  beg  you,  my  young  sir,  somewhat  more  to  weigh 
your  boiis  mots.  I  do  not  intend  to  faint,  Hke  Louise, 
but  I  do  not  like  compliments  which  savor  of  the  host- 
ler's room." 

"  I  want  also  to  make  a  request  of  you,"  said  Paul. 
"  Lay  aside  that  nonchalant  tone,  which  you  can  use 
when  you  speak  to  children  or  to  the  ladies  at  a  ball. 
On  me  it  makes  no  impression.  You  do  not  know  me. 
I  am  no  longer  what  I  was  when  we  separated.  There 
is  something  within  me  which  says  that  we  must  become 
enemies;  and  that  would  be  hard,  Bernhard,  for  you 
know  we  are  brothers!  I  beg  you,  speak  honestly, 
speak  uprightly,  speak  to  me  as  a  brother,  and  answer 
me:  where  is  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Most  cheerfully.  Soyons  amis,  Cinna;  I  ask  nothing 
better.  Must  I  necessarily  be  just  as  sentimental  and 
eccentric  as  yourself,  in  order  to  win  your  gracious 
approbation  ?  What  interjections  shall  I  make  use  of, 
to  speak  to  your  taste  ?  What  oaths  shall  I  swear,  in 
order  to  be  believed  !  I  swear  by  Jupiter  that  you  are 
mistaken!  I  protest,  by  Odin,  Thor  and  Freya,  that 
you  have  got  a  lot  of  crazy  fancies  into  your  head. 
Are  you  satisfied  with  that,  or  must  I  seek  still  other 
divinities?  With  the  exception  of  Olympus,  where  I 
am  chez  moi.,  I  fear  that  my  mythology  will  fall  short  of 
yours." 

"  Is  that  all  that  you  have  to  answer  me  ?  Put 
yourself  in  my  place.  Imagine  that  you,  like  me,  have 
a  mother,  whom  you  love  above  everything  else  in  the 
world,  and  that  she  suddenly  vanishes,  no  one  knows 
where;  would  you  not  compel  the  very  stones  to  speak, 
when  you  asked  them:  Where  is  my  mother!  " 

"  Go  and  ask  the  stones  in  the  road,  and  they  will 


EVENING   STORMS.  91 

answer  you — in  lapidary  style,  of  course — she  went  to 
Norrkoping." 

*'  My  mother  has  not  gone  to  Norrkoping." 

"  Eh  bien,  you  answer  your  own  questions.  What 
then  do  you  ask  of  me  ?  " 

"  Truth.  I  want  to  know  whej-e  my  mother  now 
is.  I  have  a  right  to  demand  it,  and  all  hell  let  loose 
shall  not  deceive  me  longer." 

"  My  dear  Paul,  you  ought  to  confess  that  I  have 
listened  with  the  most  admirable  patience  to  your 
absurd  declamations.  Get  possession  of  your  wits,  and 
in  heaven's  name  tell  me  what  further  I  am  to  answer 
on  that  point.  Madame  has  gone,  according  to  all 
that  we  know,  to  embark  on  a  vessel  for  such  and 
such  points;  and  now  you  demand  that  I  shall  be  a 
seer,  a  prophet,  a  Swedenborg,  who  ought  to  tell 
you  where  she,  for  the  moment,  has  the  goodness  to 
be.     Admit,  my  friend,  that  this  is  ridiculous." 

Paul  was  silent.  Of  course  he  had  no  proof. 
Should  he  expose  himself  to  his  brother's  laughter,  by 
telling  him  all  the  floating  rumors  on  which  he  based 
his  suspicions  ? 

But  Count  Bernhard,  who  too  soon  thought  himself 
sure  of  victory,  came  to  his  assistance.  "  I  will  show 
you  more  forbearance  than  you  have  deserved,"  said 
he.  "  Jose  shall  be  sent  expres  to  Norrkoping  this 
evening,  to  get  the  most  exact  information  about 
madame's  departure,  and  to-morrow  forenoon  he  ought 
to  be  back.     Are  you  content  with  that  ? " 

"  Jose  ? "  exclaimed  Paul,  as  all  his  dark  thoughts 
returned.  "  Jose,  do  you  say  ?  Now  I  see  through 
you.  There  is  something,  however,  which  you  want 
to  conceal,  and,  in  order  to  mislead  me,  you  want  me 
to  put  faith  in  a  wretch  who  is  your  obedient  creature, 
and  ready  for  anything,  to  perform  your  errands.  By 
the  heaven  to  which  you  appeal,  Bernhard,  I  now  begin 
to  believe  that  you  are  the  greatest  villain  on  earth  ! 
But  you  shall  not  deceive  me  I  swear — not  by  your 


0-2  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

miserable  gods,  but  by  my  lionor  and  my  noble  shield, 
which  can  guage  itself  with  your  own, — that,  if  you  do 
not  immediately  answer  me  pure,  plain  truth,  I  shall 
myself  go  to  NOrrkuping,  before  the  sun  sets;  and  woe 
unto  you  if  I  catch  you  in  a  lie  !  For  if  you  have 
ventured  to  tamper  with  my  mother's  life  or  honor  or 
happiness,  by  the  least  word,  neither  my  father's  son, 
nor  any  one  in  the  world,  shall  protect  you  from  my 
arm,  and  I  shall  call  on  you  to  account  for  it,  even 
though  it  should  cost  the  life  and  welfare  of  you  and 
me  and  of  us  all.      Will  you  now  answer  me?" 

The  burning  oil  had  been  spilled  over  the  brim, 
Paul's  dark  eyes  blazed,  his  hand  grasped  his  brother's 
— at  that  moment  he  was  beautiful  and  terrible. 

But  before  Count  Bernhard  had  had  time  to  invent 
a  new  skillful  turn  to  escape  the  furious  runaway  colt, 
as  he  might  have  expressed  himself,  the  noise  of  people 
at  the  steps  outside  was  heard,  and  in  rushed  Jose,  the 
Spanish  valet,  bleeding,  and  with  torn  clothes  and 
\vildly  staring  eyes,  while  terror  was  depicted  in  his 
brown  swarthy  countenance,  and  the  long  black  hair 
flew  in  wild  disorder  over  his  forehead. 

"  Save  me  !  For  the  sake  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and 
all  the  saints,  save  me,  seiior  !  "  stammered  he,  as,  in 
the  greatest  agony,  he  clasped  his  master's  knees. 

The  reason  was  immediately  evident,  for,  in  the 
open  door,  with  loud  shouts,  a  tumultuous  crowd  of 
people  appeared,  who  checked  themselves  at  the  sight 
of  the  two  counts,  and  remained  standing  at  the 
threshold,  without  venturing  to  intrude  into  the  room. 
Paul  immediately  understood  their  meaning.  The 
news  of  the  countess's  disappearance  had  in  the  begin- 
ning called  forth  only  a  mute  consternation  among  the 
retainers  of  the  estate,  but  during  the  day  rumors 
more  and  more  extravagant  had  transformed  the  con- 
sternation to  a  fermenting  uproar,  which  had  received 
new  nourishment  from  Paul's  visit  to  the  village,  and 


EVENING  STORMS.  93 

had  finally  incited  the  ordinarily  peaceful  Ostro-goths 
to  a  perfect  fury.  From  mouth  to  mouth  flew  the  story 
of  the  beloved  countess's  pitiful  death; — and  who  was 
more  likely  to  be  to  blame  for  that  misdeed  than  the 
newly-arrived  Spanish  gypsy,  as  the  people  called 
him,  who,  with  his  tawny,  foreign  face,  his  singular 
looks  and  his  haughty  manner,  at  the  very  first  view 
had  awakened  fear,  aversion,  and  perhaps  also  envy  ? 
All,  however,  would  probably  have  stopped  with  only 
threats,  had  not  Jose,  ignorant  of  those  suspicions,  been 
imprudent  enough  to  show  himself  in  the  village,  where 
he  was  immediately  surrounded  and  badly  abused  by 
the  exasperated  crowd. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    OLD    STORY     OF    TWO    BROTHERS. 

"TT  7HAT  do  these  stupid  peasants  want?  How 
Yy  have  they  ventured  to  lay  hands  on  my 
valet? "  asked  Count  Bernhard,  as  he  mechanically 
seized  a  pair  ot  loaded  pistols,  which,  in  Spain,  he  had 
been  accustomed  continually  to  carry  in  his  breast 
pocket. 

"  They  are  f/ie  stones  by  the  roadside  that  speak  when 
you  keep  silence,"  whispered  Paul,  in  a  voice  trembling- 
with  sorrow  and  anger.  "  They  cannot  comprehend 
that  a  person  vanishes  without  cause,  and  they  attribute 
a  share  in  it  to  Jose." 

"These  your  allies  !  "  coldly  responded  Bernhard. 
"  Go  away,  Jose  !  No  one  shall  venture  to  insult  you 
again,  and  before  I  go  to  Stockholm,  day  after  to-mor- 
row, I  will  see  that  the  refractory  scoundrels  have  an 
exemplary  punishment.  Soderlund  !  "  and  he  rang  for 
his  father's  old  functionary,  "  bolt  the  door,  and  tell 


fl4  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

the  grooms  to  drive  the  insolent  rabble  back  to  the 
village  with  their  horsewhips  !  " 

"  Not  until  you  have  proved  that  the  rabble  is 
wrong,"  defiantly  interposed  Paul. 

'■'■  Charmant !  You  expect  me  to  treat  with  peas- 
ants !  And  about  what,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  ask  ? 
Do  you  know,  my  friend,  I  begin  to  have  quite  as  poor 
an  opinion  of  your  common-sense  as  of  the  rest  of 
your  amiable  qualities.  But  I  ought  not  to  wonder  at 
your  sympathies  with  the  mob.  It  is  natural — it  runs 
in  the  blood." 

Scarcely  was  this  spoken  before  Paul  seized  the 
left  hand  of  his  brother  so  violently  that  three  fingers 
were  thrown  out  of  joint,  and  the  blood  was  forced  out 
from  beneath  the  nails.  "  I  said  you  should  be  respon- 
sible to  me  for  the  least  insult  to  my  mother  !  "  said 
the  young  man,  between  his  teeth. 

Fortunately  they  were  alone  in  the  room,  for  the 
expression  of  mortal  hatred  which  suddenly  flamed  up 
in  the  cold  and  proud  features  of  Count  Bernhard  was  so 
terrible  that  Paul  himself  started  back  and  let  go  the 
■dislocated  hand.  It  lasted  only  half  a  second,  but 
that  was  sufficient  to  reveal  the  impassable  gulf  which 
from  that  hour  must  forever  separate  the  two 
brothers. 

"  Crazy  boy  !  "  burst  out  Count  Bernhard,  as  he 
needed  all  his  famous  art  to  struggle  at  once  against 
his  fury  and  the  physical  pain.  "  I  have  still  my  right 
hand  to  chastise  you  for  the  left,  and  if  I  had  not  the 
misfortune  of  being  obliged  to  call  a  miserable  plebeian 
my  brother,  nothing  should  prevent  my  answering 
your  hand-pressure  as  any  nobleman  would  do  in  my 
place.  But  for  this  time  it  may  be  enough  if  you  find 
out  why  you  have,  like  a  madman,  been  rushing 
around,  trumpeting  forth  your  own  dishonor.  Let  it 
be  my  revenge  and  your  punishment." 

"  For  half  an  hour  I  have  only  asked  truth  from 
your  lying  lips,"  replied  Paul,  with  equal  pride,  "  and 


EVENING  STORMS.  95 

it  was  in  your  power  to  spare  yourself  my  hand- 
pressure,  if  you  had  granted  my  request.  Say  the 
worst  you  know,  insult  me  as  much  as  you  please,  only 
do  not  insult  my  mother,  and  speak  the  truth.  With 
anything  dishonorable  you  will  never  be  able  to  up- 
braid me." 

"Judge  yourself,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  as  with  a 
shrug  he  threw  himself  into  the  nearest  arm-chair. 
*'  Have  the  goodness  to  be  seated,  for  your  caresses 
have  the  peculiarity  of  fatiguing." 

Paul  took  a  seat  near  him.  They  were  separated 
by  only  a  foot,  and  yet  the  distance  between  them  had 
grown,  in  the  last  few  minutes,  to  many  miles. 

"  So,"  began  Bernhard,  "  we  will  now,  for  the  sake 
of  change,  be  perfectly  candid  to  each  other.  Indeed  ! 
I  do  not  know  why  I  have  hitherto  put  myself  to  the 
trouble  of  sparing  your  delicacy,  when  nature,  so  step- 
motherly, seems  to  have  provided  you  with  that  pecu- 
liarity. But,  apropos  of  step-mothers,  you  perhaps 
remember  that  your  mother  was  once  a  chambermaid 
at  Falkby,  where  she  found  a  shelter,  after  certain 
little  adventures  in  Stockholm,  which  it  is  unnecessary 
to  mention. 

"  You  forget  our  agreement !  "  threateningly  ejacu- 
lated Paul.  "  You  begin  with  a  lie  and  continue  with 
a  calumny." 

"  I  beg  to  be  excused  from  any  further  caresses,  my 
lord  !  But  sit  down,  I  beg  you,  and  let  us  in  all  tran- 
quillity come  to  the  matter.  As  you  perhaps  know,  my 
father  was  weak  enough,  at  about  two  and  twenty 
years  of  age,  to  become  enamored  of  a  girl  from  the 
crowd — I  do  not  for  the  present  remember  her  name, 
— and  that  gallant  connection  was  broken  off  when  he 
married  my  mother.  Unfortunately,  he  was  not  long 
permitted  to  keep  a  wife  who  was  in  all  respects 
worthy  of  him.  She  died,  leaving  two  children,  my 
sister  and  me.  Some  time  afterwards,  my  father 
accompanied   the   late   king   on    his    royal    progress 


00  TIME 5;  OF  ALCHEMY. 

through  Finland,  and  the  girl  aforesaid — it  is  really 
unfortunate  that  I  have  forgotten  her  name,  whether 
it  was  Osterlund  or  Appelros,  but  that  is  indifferent — 
suffice  it  to  say  she  had  some  little  wealth,  tried  out  of 
butter  and  tallow,  and  when  my  father  happened  to 
break  his  leg,  that  wise  and  by  that  time  somewhat 
old  girl  thought  the  opportunity  should  not  be  neg- 
lected. She  laid  balsam  on  my  father's  sore  leg,  and 
he,  in  return,  on  her  sore  heart.  In  short,  she  gained 
her  end,  and  became  countess." 

"  Miserable  slanderer  !  " 

"  No,  above  all  things,  no  compliments  !  I  was  at 
that  time  only  six  years  of  age,  and  my  sister  four  ; 
but  we  were  old  enough  to  feel  unhappy  over  a 
connection  which  made  our  father  ridiculous.  It  is 
possible  that  the  relationship  between  us  and  our  step- 
mother was  somewhat  cool, — intimate  it  never  became. 
But  people  can  submit  to  anything,  and  we  finally 
submitted  to  the  honor  of  reckoning  parsons,  peasants 
and  shopkeepers,  in  short,  the  whole  plebeian  mob, 
among  our  nearest  relations.  The  new  countess  pre- 
sented our  father  two  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter 
like  ourselves,  and  it  appeared  to  be  growing  really 
amicable  between  us.  Meantime,  I  went  abroad,  my 
sister  married,  and  our  father,  who  is  a  very  compliant 
man,  .  .  .  .  " 

"  You  revile  even  our  father  !  " 

"  A  little  patience,  if  I  may  be  allowed.  Our  father, 
who  is  a  compliant  man  in  his  domestic  concerns,  sub- 
mitted gradually,  during  our  absence,  to  letting  our 
intrepid  step-mother  rule  and  manage  at  Falkby  as  she 
pleased.  One  day  I  come  back  and  find  a  lot  of  low, 
untasty  arrangements,  which  savor  half  of  hen-house, 
half  of  trading-booth,  concerning  which  I  have  the 
impudence  to  express  my  humble  opinion.  That  of 
course  displeases,  for  this  chambermaid,  now  the 
countess,  .  .  .  ." 

"  Say  that  once  more,  and,  as  true  as  you  are  a  base 


EVENING  STORMS.  97 

liar,  I  will  send  your  right  hand  to  keep  company  with 
the  left !  " 

"  Much  obliged  ;  in  exchange  for  such  proofs  of 
friendship,  I  have  a  couple  of  playthings  in  my  pocket. 
— So  the  countess  naturally  regarded  my  taste 
as  greatly  inferior  to  her  own  elevated  views  of  hen- 
house architecture,  and  I  remember  that  on  that  point 
we  exchanged  a  few  confidential  words.  I  ventured 
even  to  doubt  her  absolute  sovereignty,  and  such  high 
treason  was  more  than  an  empress  from  the  kitchen 
regarded  compatible  with  her  new  dignity.  She  then 
gave  us  a  little  surprise, — she  ran  away  from  Falkby 
last  night." 

"  What  ?  My  mother  !  "  exclaimed  Paul,  as  with 
blanching  face  he  sprung  up. 

"  Yes,  certainly.  She  probably  thought  that  one  ot 
us  two  was  rather  superfluous,  and,  as  it  did  not  occur 
to  me  that  it  could  be  I,  she  looked  upon  me  as  a 
rebel,  and  resolved  to  abdicate." 

"My  mother?" 

"  Yes ;  was  not  that  an  ide  which  Maria  The- 
resa or  Catherine  the  second  might  have  envied  her? 
She  walked,  or  rode,  or  rowed,  I  do  not  know  exactly 
how,  but  suffice  it  to  say  she  bereft  us  of  her  agree- 
able company  without  saying  farewell.  She  decamped 
with  a  real  z'irtuositt^  which  showed  that  it  was  not  the 
first  time  she  had  in  this  manner  honored  the  highway 
with  her  presence." 

"  Oh,  my  mother  !  My  poor  rejected  mother  !  " 
lamented  Paul,  wringing  his  hands. 

"  Calm  yourself, — all  sovereigns  are  sensitive  of 
power,  and  instead  of  ceding  a  single  paragraph  of  her 
super-loftiness,  instead  of  descending  to  the  second 
step  of  the  throne,  to  leave  the  first  to  our  father, 
madame  preferred  to  forsake  house  and  home  with  an 
eclat  which  will  not  fail  to  create  scandal,  and  dishonor 
that  family  which  has  done  madame  the  honor  of 
elevating  her  from  the  grocer's  shop.  I  was,  however, 
5  G 


98  TIAfES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

needlessly  generous  enough  to  wish  to  screen  her  faux 
f>as  under  the  veil  of  a  journey  to  Pyrmont,  but  my 
excellent  brother  has  done  everything  that  lay  in  his 
power  to  pull  aside  the  veil  and  reveal  his  mistress- 
mother  in  all  the  reality  of  her  natural  agreeableness. 
He  has  succeeded,  by  the  help  of  the  mob,  to  which 
he  has  an  inborn  attraction, — and  there,  my  young 
lord,  you  see  what  I  have  to  answer  to  your  caprices. 
You  asked  to  find  out  the  truth,  and  you  have  got 
what  you  asked." 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  Paul,  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  Between  your  calumnies,  I  read  only  too  plainly  a 
terrible  fact.  She  whom  I  love  more  than  my  life, 
whose  lofty  soul  you,  with  all  your  worldly  experience, 
are  too  base  to  comprehend,  is  now  straying,  rejected, 
unhappy  and  alone  in  the  world.  I  now  know  all,  and 
I  shall  act  accordingly  " 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ON    SWEDISH    GROUND. 

FALLING  kingdoms,  falling  crowns,  how  similar 
everywhere  is  their  fate  !  The  bands  loosen,  the 
energies  are  thrown  asunder,  the  wills  are  divided,  the 
selfish  links  drop  from  the  chain,  and  blow  on  blow  falls 
from  the  hammer  of  Time  against  the  dead  walls  of  the 
law  which  fence  in  the  whole.  The  tree  is  rotten,  the 
sap  is  dried  up,  the  storm  comes,  the  branches  crack  ; 
then  there  is  a  roaring  and  a  gust  of  wind  !  With  a 
noise  as  of  thunder,  the  old  oak  falls,  and  great  is  the 
fall  thereof. 

That  old  oak  was  the  kingdom  of  Sweden  in  the 
sprmgof  the  year  1772.     It  still  stood  upright, — to  the 


EVENING   STORMS.  99 

unwise  it  still  seemed  majestic  and  venerable,  on  that 
northern  hill  of  snow,  which  it  continued  to  call  its 
own,  and  where  its  deepest  roots  spread  out  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  ground.  But  how  the  worms  were 
gnawing  its  withered  leaves,  and  how  the  wind  was 
shaking  its  decaying  crown  !  The  kingdom  was  like  a 
consumptive,  whose  remaining  blood  flows  to  the  cheeks, 
to  conjure  forth  the  stolen  roses  of  health,  while  the 
heart  beats  irregularly,  and  hands  and  feet  grow  numb 
with  cold. 

The  diet  continued  in  session.  It  was  now  in  the 
month  of  April,  and  as  yet  there  seemed  to  be  no  end 
to  its  long-winded  disputes.  On  the  contrary,  they 
became  more  and  more  menacing,  since  the  democracy 
had  gained  the  supremacy,  and  threatened  to  swallow 
up  the  nobility,  as  the  nobility  had  once  swallowed  up 
the  royal  authority.  It  was  half  of  the  old  burgher- 
king's  ideas, — a  king  and  a  people, — which  had  now 
come  to  power,  and  the  question  involved  nothing  less 
than  the  relegation  of  the  whole  aristocratic  council. 
The  honorable  Caps  stood,  irresolute  and  pale  with 
terror,  before  that  specter  they  had  themselves  conjured 
to  their  aid.  The  still  more  honorable  Hats  quaked 
with  horror,  and  clung,  in  their  distress,  with  convulsive 
eagerness  fast  to  the  mast  of  the  ship  of  state,  which 
heretofore  they  had  been  so  anxious  to  chop  down  and 
throw  overboard.  For  them,  there  no  longer  appeared 
hope  of  rescue,  except  from  the  scoffed-at,  the  re- 
stricted, the  mistreated  royal  power. 

At  that  time  there  was  gathered,  one  evening  at 
one  of  the  inns  of  Stockholm,  that  club  of  young  noble- 
men which  was  known  under  the  name  of  "  Svenska 
Botten,"  and  which  for  the  greater  part  lived  by  allow- 
ances of  French  money.  The  club  was  a  confused 
compound  of  all  kinds  of  elements.  By  the  side  of 
full-blooded  aristocrats  of  all  grades,  younger  sons 
without  inheritance  and  without  future,  most  of  them 
doing  service  as  subaltern  officers  of  the  army,  honest 


100  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

minded  but  easily  inflamed  men  and  youths,*  were  seen 
dissipated  gamblers,  broken-down  proprietors,  ex- 
officers,  dissatisfied  intriguers,  in  short  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  good  and  depraved  elements,  with  nevertheless 
a  strong  coloring  of  all  the  discontent  which  had  for  a 
long  time  been  gathering  against  tlie  ruling  order  of 
society,  and  whose  particular  tendency  was,  with  the 
help  of  the  king  to  overturn  the  existing  order  of  things 
without  clearly  understanding  what  they  should  put  in 
its  place.  It  ought  to  be  added  that  all  the  members 
were  originally  Hats,  who  were  anxious  above  all  else 
to  put  an  end  to  the  supremacy  of  the  Caps,  and  thus 
about  what  in  Poland  would  have  been  called  a  "  con- 
federation." The  leader  of  the  club  was  the  afterward 
widely  celebrated  Jacob  Magnus  Sprengtport. 

The  youngest  and  most  ardent  of  the  gentlemen 
had  for  the  present  gathered  around  a  steaming  bowl 
in  the  guest  room,  where  the  smoke  from  fifty  clay 
pipes  rose  in  clouds  toward  the  ceiling,  while  the  more 
delicate  of  the  company,  who  held  tobacco  smoke  in 
abhorrence,  discussed  the  questions  of  the  day  over  a 
glass  of  Rhenish  wine  or  lemonade,  in  side  rooms.  The 
time  was  rich  in  inflammable  subjects,  which  could  be 
kindled  by  a  spark,  and  such  were  by  no  means  lacking 
in  this  young  and  hot-headed  club,  whose  purpose  it 
was  in  an  effective,  and,  if  need  be,  forcible  manner,  to 
seize  upon  the  political  questions  of  the  day. 

From  the  animated,  sometimes  passionate  exchange 
of  words  over  the  bowl,  it  might  be  concluded  that 
something  especially  important  was  now  on  the  carpet. 
As  a  beginning,  the  last  number  of  the  newspaper  called 
"  The  Swedish  Policeman  "  was  read  aloud,  where  the 
nobility  was  quite  openly  called  traitors,  robbers  and 

•  Among  them  the  following  names  well-known  in  Finland  are  to  be  found- 
De  Caruall,  Stalhandske,  Pinello,  Nordenskbld,  Von  Becker,  Creutz,  Ramsay. 
Gripenberg,  Hoije,  Finkenberg,  Aminoff,  Kulefelt,  Rehbinder,  Von  Kothen, 
Lagerborg,  Jagerskold,  Essen,  Vadensljerna,  Tigerstedt,  Dobeln,  Sprengtport, 
(J.  M.),  Ehrenrooth,  Ereiistrom,  v.  Gerdt,  Tandefelt,  Uggla,  Konow,  v. 
Schantz,  De  la  Motte,  Cederskjold,  Cremer,  Nassakin,  Cronhjelm,  v.  Chris- 
tierson.  Armfelt,  Edeltelt,  and  Bentzelstjerna. 


EVEHING   STORMS.  101 

profligates,  and  where  the  Swedish  nation  was  advised 
to  follow  the  example  of  the  Swiss  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  disburden  itself  of  this  plague. 

A  laugh  of  anger  and  scorn,  mingled  with  threats, 
passed  through  that  whole  vociferous  company. 

"  It  is  the  free-born  who  speak  !"  burst  out  a  young 
lieutenant,  as  he  disdainfully  threw  the  sheet  aside.  It 
accorded  with  the  tune  of  the  untitled  to  call  them- 
selves free-born,  in  contradistinction  to  the  Jiigh-born 
of  the  land. 

"  Take  care,  Ffeiff,"  interposed  another,  "  about 
paying  your  court  to  the  rich  burgher-lass  near  the 
wharf  !  Remember  Burgomaster  Sundblad's  notion  that 
such  conduct  is  highly  improper  ;  the  burgher-blood 
must  be  retained  in  its  purity." 

"  And  you,  Gripenmarck,"  exclaimed  a  third,  "  be 
careful  about  seeking  the  office  of  territorial  judge  of 
Goinge  ;  the  peasants  want  to  be  sentenced  by  their 
peers  to  forty  pairs  of  lashes." 

"  I  propose,"  said  the  fourth,  "  that  we  hereafter 
carry  a  yard-stick,  instead  of  a  sword,  at  our  side.  It 
is  modern,  and  can  at  all  events  do  to  kill  dogs  with." 

"  And  I,"  put  in  an  ensign,  who  had  in  vain  shaved 
twice  a  week,  without  as  yet  being  able  to  conjure  any- 
thing but  goose-down  on  his  milk-white  cheeks,  "  I  pro- 
pose that  we  decorate  ourselves  with  wooden  shoes 
instead  of  spurs,  and  hang  a  parson's  ruff,  like  a  weather- 
vane,  on  our  backs." 

"  With  a  nightcap  over  the  peruke  !"  added  an 
auditor  at  the  court-martial,  provided  with  a  wig  which 
might  have  served  as  a  model  for  the  mane  of  the  lion 
of  Gotha. 

"  The  devil  take  all  the  Caps!"  exclaimed  a  florid, 
rude  fellow  of  a  captain,  who  was  wont  to  go  directly 
at  the  matter.  "  Let  us  go  straight  to  the  king,  to-mor- 
row, and  request  an  end  of  the  gossip.  If  not,  I  know 
what  we  ought  to  do  with  the  Caps." 

"  Be  good  enough  to  impart  your  wisdom  to  us. 


10-2  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

What  is  it  we  ought  to  do  with  the  Caps  ?"  inquired  a 
sarcastic  assessor,  who  preferred  detours. 

"  Well,  this  way,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  blue  snuff  handkerchief,  tied  the  corners 
into  knots  so  that  it  represented  a  cap,  made  with  it  a 
gesture  which  cannot  be  described,  and  then  threw  the 
improvised  cap  into  the  large  open  fire  place,  where  it 
was  instantly  consumed  by  the  flames. 

A  shout  of  applause  from  a  part  of  the  company 
answ^ered  this  maneuver,  which  spoke  only  too  plainly 
of  their  excited  mood;  but  others  were  less  pleased  with 
it,  and,  going  to  the  leader,  begged  him  to  divert  pre- 
cipitate determination. 

Colonel  Sprengtport  was  sitting  in  the  side-room, 
absorbed  in  a  confidential  conversation  with  Count 
Bernhard  Bertelskold,  who,  wealthy,  high-born,  experi- 
enced and  sagacious  as  he  was,  had  immediately  upon 
his  first  entrance  occupied  a  prominent  place  among 
the  leaders  of  the  Hats. 

"  It  will  be  as  it  is,"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  low 
voice,  in  French.  "You  will  do  your  best  with  the 
clergy.  If  we  succeed  in  severing  them  from  the  rest, 
we  have  two  houses  against  two,  and  the  game  is  ours. 
If  we  do  not  succeed,  we  will  then  make  an  effort  with 
the  peasants.  If  that  does  not  succeed,  the  game  is 
desperate,  and  we  must  decide  upon  other  means." 

"  You  forget,  my  dear  baron,  that  a  third  house  is 
yet  at  our  disposal,  one  that  lives,  moves,  and  has  its 
being  in   money,"  said  Bertels-kold. 

"  Do  not  flatter  yourself  ever  to  impose  on  the 
burghers,"  responded  Sprengtport,  with  a  shrug.  "In 
the  house  of  burghers  is  the  natural  home  of  the  de- 
mocracy. It  will  never  content  itself  with  less  than  the 
whole  power,  in  order  alone  to  dispose  of  the  whole 
gain.  As  to  yourself,  my  dear  count,  you  can  be  as- 
sured of  a  seat  in  the  council,  but  fiot  yet." 

"As  you  please.     I  am  at  your  service." 

Here  the  gentlemen  were  interrupted  by  the  more 


EVENING   STORMS.  103 

cool-headed  of  the  club,  who  came  to  beg  the  leader 
to  check  the  rising  storm  in  the  larger  room.  Sprengt- 
port  went  out.  His  falcon  eye  glanced  over  the  surg- 
ing mass,  and  instantly  grasped  the  danger  of  the 
situation. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he  calmly,  but  in  a  strong  voice, 
before  which  the  noise  subsided,  "  we  are  here  to  de- 
liberate about  the  rescue  of  our  country,  and  not 
about  party  disputes.  It  is  proposed  to  depose  the 
council,  en  masse,  and  we  are  agreed  that  this  would 
lead  to  the  dissolution  of  the  whole  kingdom." 

"  Together  with  the  nobility,"  murmured  a  few 
voices. 

"  Together  with  the  nobility,  that  is  true.  And 
therefore  the  kingdom  shall  be  saved  together  with 
the  nobility  J  is  not  that  the  opinion  of  all  ? " 

"  That  is  true,"  was  the  cry  from  all  points. 

"  On  the  eleventh  of  April  the  question  comes  up  in 
the  three  lower  houses;  and  it  is  now  the  eighth.  If 
the  gentlemen,  for  reasons  which  I  cannot  now  present, 
but  which  will  soon  be  manifest  to  all,  will  grant  me 
three  days'  delay,  in  which  to  direct  the  business,  I 
will  promise  that  if  we  do  not  then  succeed  we  shall 
all  go  in  a  deputation  to  the  king,  to  request  the  disso- 
lution of  the  diet." 

"  In  three  days  it  will  be  too  late,"  objected   some. 

"  In  three  days  the  club  will  perhaps  have  been 
dissolved,"  murmured  others. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  the  leader,  with  a  smile, 
"  I  have  certain  advices  that  the  maintenance  money  of 
the  club,  which  it  has  been  threatened  to  discontinue, 
will  be  disbursed  again  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  All  right,  we  will  wait !  "  was  the  reply,  for  the 
happy  news  of  the  maintenance  had  a  remarkably  tran- 
quillizing effect. 

"  God  save  the  king  !  "  exclaimed  the  leaders. 

"  God  save  the  king  !  "  sounded  quickly  from  the 
lips  of  all. 


104  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CONSPIRATOR    AGAINST    CONSPIRATOR, 

"  '\/"0U  can  be  assured  of  a  seat  in  the  council,  but 
J^  fiot  yet,"  repeated  Count  Bernhard  Bertelskold, 
with  that  mocking  smile  which  he  believed  became 
him  so  well,  and  which  he  had  not  the  least  reason  now 
to  suppress,  for  he  was  sitting  alone  in  his  office,  occu- 
pied with  some  letters  which  his  valet,  Jose,  had  just 
handed  him.  "  Not  yet  ?  I  am  much  obliged,  my 
dear  Baron  Sprengtport.  Without  doubt,  you  have 
one  of  the  best  of  heads,  and,  if  you  yourself  are  to 
be  believed,  are  the  most  excellent  conspirator  that 
Sweden  at  present  has  the  honor  to  show.  But  you 
forget  that  you  might  possibly  have  a  rival  in  your 
noble  art.  You  regard  yourself  as  so  utterly  unsurpass- 
able, and  us  other  little  mortals  so  solely  created  for 
halters,  that  you  think  it  in  your  power  to  throw  to  us 
such  little  tid-bits,  placed  on  if  and  when,  as  are  used 
to  make  lap-dogs  sit  up.  I  really  feel  an  irresistible 
desire  to  serve  you  some  trick,  if  for  nothing  else  than 
to  give  you  a  needed  lesson  in  modesty.  A  seat  in  the 
council  !  That  is,  upon  my  honor,  a  paiivre  offer  in 
these  times,  even  without  conditions.  There  was  only 
a 'not  yet' lacking,  to  fall  from  the  sublime  directly 
into  the  ridiculous.  And  with  what  an  excellent  com- 
posure did  I  know  how  to  look  very  serious  when  I 
replied,  '  As  you  please  ;  I  am  at  your  service  ! '  I 
might  have  been  taken  for  a  grandee  of  Spain,  holding 
the  stirrup  for  a  stupid  prince.  Truly,  I  am  compelled 
to  admire  myself. 

"But  let  me  see,"  he  continued,  as  with  rapid  hand 
he  opened  one  after  another  of  the  letters  on  his  desk. 


EVENING   STORMS.  105 

<'  From  my  father  ?  Of  course  the  old  complaining 
songs  again.  .  .  .  Right.  He  is  sick  with  sorrow  and 
regret.  No  one  can  fill  madame's  place,  of  course,  in 
seeing  to  the  dairy,  and  taking  care  of  the  hens,  ani. 
reading  aloud  in  the  evenings  to  mon  cher  papa.  He 
has  taken  a  governess  for  Vera — a  Lady  Sjoblad. 
Well,  there  is  a  name,  at  least.  We  must  see  that  our 
old  Celadon  becomes  enamored  of  her,  and,  some  fine 
day,  marries  her.  Par  hazard,  I  have  no  fondness  for 
step-mothers,  but  if  there  is  no  other  means  of  getting 
that  East  Bothnian  pitch-vapor  out  of  the  house,  then 
a  la  honheur !  'Paul  is  in  Upsala,  studying  with  a 
young  man  by  the  name  of  Thorild.'  " 

The  countenance  of  Count  Bernhard  darkened. 
He  hastily  lighted  the  letter  at  a  little  spirit-lamp, 
which,  solely  for  that  purpose,  was  continually  burning 
on  his  table.  There  was  one  word  in  the  letter  which 
burned  his  hand.  He  preferred  not  to  read  his 
brother's  name. 

"What  do  I  see?"  he  continued,  opening  other 
letters.  "  From  my  lovely  marchioness  !  And  so  per- 
fumed !  She  invites  me  to  a  soiree  en  famille  to-morrow 
evening.  It  would  be  cruel  to  wound  her  by  a  refusal. 
— From  Lejonram  !  He  solicits  five  hundred  rix-dol- 
lars.  Very  well;  he  shall  have  a  hundred.  I  may 
need  him. — From  Hagerflycht  ?  He  sends  me  a  chal- 
lenge apropos  little  Lisette.  A  bagatelle.  We  will 
breakfast  together,  and  a  glass  of  Tokay  is  all  the  sat- 
isfaction he  will  ask. — From  Assessor  Mannelin.  He 
solicits  my  recommendation  to  the  office  of  justice. 
Not  bad  !  People  begin  to  get  an  idea  of  my  influ- 
ence. We  might  make  an  exception  of  that  plebeian 
ink-dauber,  if  for  nothing  else  than  to  spite  the  club. 
— Aha  !  Provost  Larsson  !  This  is  one  of  the  fishes 
for  which  my  ingenious  leader  has  enjoined  me  to 
spread  the  net.  As  I  might  suppose,  a  whole  sermon 
of  four  quarto  pages.  Let  us  skip  three  and  a  half  to 
read  the  moral  at  the  close, — Polished  enough  for  such 


100  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

a  plunii:)  pork  sausage,"  resumed  the  count,  after  he  had 
glanced  through  the  last  lines.  "  The  pious  man,  with 
the  most  humble  obeisance  gives  me  to  understand  that 
he  is  ready  to  declare  the  devil  a  saint,  if  his  faithful 
services  are  only  in  due  time  rewarded  with  a  bishop's 
crosier.  But /t;;' ///^'/r^j-^?/// nothing  can  be  done.  The 
house  of  clergy  is  like  a  runaway  horse, — just  hear 
how  he  flatters  his  reverend  brothers  in  office  ! — and 
he  himself  is  obliged  for  the  present  to  howl  with  the 
wolves — he  probably  means  the  shepherds — until  in  the 
presence  of  the  honorable  lord  count,  and  so  forth,  he 
can  lay  down  his  humble  thank-offering  of  respect  on 
the  altar  of  fidelity. — Superb  !  The  fellow  has  been 
pretty  well  paid  by  the  Caps,  but  would  like  to  keep 
retreat  open,  in  the  event  that  we  should  make  a  higher 
bid.  C'est  fiiii,  my  dear  baron  of  the  Svenska  Botten  ! 
This  gate  you  will  not  blow  up  with  words.  What 
do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  I  will  lay  before  you  this  pre- 
cious dogmatic  masterpiece,  and  you  will  comprehend 
that,  in  the  case  of  the  clergy,  nothing  remains  for  j'ou 
to  do  but  implore  their  absolution. 

"  However,"  continued  the  count,  after  some  reflec- 
tion, "  I  will  as  accurately  as  possible  obey  orders.  So 
the  time  has  now  come  to  divide  the  peasants. — Jose!  " 

The  valet  came. 

"  Have  you  had  the  fellow  from  Badstu  Street,  in 
the  southern  suburb,  called  hither?" 

"  He  is  outside,  awaiting  the  commands  of  your 
grace." 

"  Conduct  him  in  !  " 

Jose  departed,  and  immediately  afterward  returned 
with  a  young  peasant  of  kind,  honest,  and  resolute  ap- 
pearance. The  count  gave  him  a  fleeting  glance,  and 
seemed  surprised  at  his  youth. 

"  Your  name  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Jonas  Bertila,  representative  from  Storkyro,"  re- 
plied the  peasant,  without  embarrassment. 


EVENING    STORMS.  107 

"  You  are  rather  young  to  hold  so  important  a  trust," 
said  the  count,  as  he  found  it  best  to  put  more  polite- 
ness into  that  careless  tone. 

"  My  constituents  thought  me  old  enough,"  replied 
the  peasant. 

"  Very  well.  You  know  the  point  at  issue.  There 
are  persons  who  mean  well  by  the  peasants,  and  think 
they  are  altogether  too  highly  taxed.  Until  the  gov- 
ernment taxes  are  diminished,  an  event  probably  not 
far  distant,  it  is  of  importance  to  restrain  the  unreason- 
able claims  of  the  clergy.  As  it  now  is,  tlie  shepherds 
are  shearing  the  sheep  to  the  bare  carcass.  That  com- 
pensation grain,  you  understand  .  .  .  .  " 

"  That  was  under  discussion  yesterday.  But  we 
peasants  like  best  to  plough  and  sow  our  own  fields." 

"  Of  course.  But  if  some  good  friend  assigns  you 
a  better  plough,  that  ploughs  deeper  furrows,  you  see 
it  is  to  your  own  advantage." 

"  That  depends.  We  have  a  great  many  good 
friends  now-a-days,  and  one  must  not  judge  the  dog 
from  the  hare." 

"  Indeed.     You  are  a  Cap  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  a  Hat,  if  there  must  needs  be  a  head- 
dress." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Then  we  think  alike.  Ber- 
tila  ?     I  remember  having  heard  that  name  sometime." 

"  That  may  easily  be,  as  I  own  the  farm  from  which 
your  grace's  family  originated  seven  generations  ago, 
and  have  its  name,"  boldly  replied  the  peasant. 

The  count  bit  his  lip.  "  That  is  possible,"  said  he, 
in  an  indifferent  tone,  "  and  so  much  the  more  reason 
is  it  for  our  keeping  together.  The  peasants  do  not 
agree  to  the  proposal,  you  say  ?" 

"No." 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  confidentially,  my  friend. 
In  that  the  peasants  do  quite  right.  They  have  so  long 
danced  after  the  piping  of  the  lords,  that  they  can  now, 
at  last,  furnish  their  own  music." 


108  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

On  the  shrewd  features  of  Bertila,  it  was  seen  that 
he  did  not  give  any  too  great  credence  to  such  words 
from  a  count. 

"It  surprises  you  ?"  continued  Bertelskold.  "You 
would  have  more  confidence  in  me,  if  you  knew  that  I 
had  hved  abroad,  among  free  people  who  have  abol- 
ished all  nobility,  and  found  much  good  by  it.  To 
that,  my  dear  Bertila,  we  too  are  to  come.  If,  as  a  be- 
ginning, we  get  the  aristocratic  council  out  of  the  way, 
and  supply  its  place  from  the  common  people,  the  rest 
will  go  like  a  dance  ;  or  what  is  your  opinion  ? " 

"  I  have  no  opinion,"  said  the  peasant. 

"  Can  I  depend  on  your  secrecy  ?  " 

Bertila  nodded. 

"  Well,  to  prove  the  honesty  of  my  intentions,  I 
will  whisper  something  in  your  ear.  The  king  acts  as 
if  he  wished  to  take  the  part  of  the  lords  of  the  council, 
but  secretly  nothing  would  suit  him  better  than  to  have 
the  whole  council  cashiered.  Regulate  your  conduct 
by  that,  you  good  peasants,  and,  whatever  the  lords 
wish  to  make  you  believe,  have  no  compassion  !  Do 
you  understand  me  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  The  voice  is  Jacob's,  but  the  hands  are 
Esau's." 

"  Farewell.  If  you  need  anj'thing,  apply  to  me. 
And  remember  what  I  said, — keep  the  peasants  well 
with  the  clergy  and  burghers,  then  the  council  will  de- 
camp, and  the  power  is  yours  !  " 

The  peasant  made  a  scrape  with  his  foot,  and  went 
away,  perplexed,  however,  at  last,  and  uncertain  how  he 
ought  to  understand  so  unexpected  an  exhortation. 
Bertelskold  again  threw  himself  back  in  the  easy-chair, 
and  laughed  as  heartily  as  was  possible  for  him. 

"  Beautiful  instructions  ! "  thought  he  to  himself. 
"  Upon  my  honor,  I  would  have  given  half  a  keg  of 
gold  to  have  had  the  whole  of  '  Svenska  Botten  '  as 
audience,  and  seen  the  good  patriot's  amazement.  My 
reconnoiterings  with  the  clergy  and  peasants  have  sue- 


EVENING   STORMS.  109 

ceeded  excellently.  I  knew  how  to  present  the  bait 
so  roughly  that  the  fishes  felt  the  hook.  The  burghers 
now  remain.  My  leader  shall  be  content.  We  shall 
so  upset  them,  that  not  only  they,  but  the  whole  coun- 
cil, shall  lose  track  of  their  plans  ....  Jose  !  " 

The  valet  came. 

"  With  these  notes,  you  will  go  immediately  to  the 
wives  of  the  burgomasters  Sebaldt  and  Sundblad,  and 
the  wife  of  merchant  Larsson.  But  be  careful  not  to 
let  them  know  who  sent  you.  Keep  a  good  counten- 
ance, and  make  them  think  that  you  come  directly  from 
Bishop  Forsenius,  or  some  other  leader  of  the  Caps. 
You  will  then  take  this  note  to  the  first  door-keeper  at 
the  Great  Church,  and  give  him  to  understand  that 
Baron  Hopken,  or  some  other  leader  of  the  Hats,  sent 
you.  Bear  in  mind  that  the  first  three  notes  come  from 
the  Caps,  but  the  last  from  the  Hats.  It  can  do  no 
harm  to  let  a  word  about  the  king  escape  you,  with 
door-keeper  Ostergren,  who  is  a  decided  Hat,  and  con- 
sequently, for  the  time  being,  a  royalist.  Do  you  un- 
derstand me  ? " 

"  Sefior  shall  be  satisfied." 

"  Very  well.  My  good  baron  of  '  Svenska  Botten  ' 
shall  also  be  satisfied  with  me." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    BURGHER-WIVES. 

AT  that  time,  when  such  important  matters  were  on 
foot,  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose 
that  the  women  were  indifferent  to  the  deliberations  of 
their  husbands.  On  the  contrary,  they  followed  the 
victories  or  defeats  of  the  parties  with  almost  as  much 
attention  as  the  real  actors  in  the  drama  of  the  day, 


110  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

and  often,  certainly,  with  more  passion.  At  least 
it  was  said  that  more  than  one  woman  of  the  Cap 
party  entertained  decidedly  unamicable  feelings  toward 
this  or  that  one  of  her  former  female  friends  who  had 
chanced  to  be  chained  by  Hymen  to  a  Hat,  and  on  the 
other  hand  it  was  related  that  more  than  one  lady 
of  the  Hat  party  carefully  informed  herself,  when  she 
hired  a  servant  girl,  how  long  the  person  in  question 
had  served  in  royal  families,  or  if  she  could  possibly 
be  suspected  of  having  imbibed  bad  principles  during 
a  previous  service  with  some  lady  of  the  Cap  party. 

It  was  certainly  rather  strange  that  representatives 
from  the  country  brought  their  wives  with  them  to 
Stockholm,  since  in  many  particulars  they  might  be 
looked  upon  as  hindrances  to  the  affairs  of  state,  or  as 
not  the  most  trustworthy  in  the  preservation  of  import- 
ant state-secrets.  But  at  the  diet  now  in  session, 
many  exceptions  to  this  rule  occurred,  both  on  account 
of  the  length  of  the  session,  which  made  the  separation 
dubious,  and  especially  from  the  fact  that  various  fes- 
tivities were  to  be  expected  at  the  impending  coronation 
of  the  new  king.  A  pardonable  curiosity  had  thus 
brought  together  an  unusually  large  number  of  repre- 
sentatives' wives,  beside  their  husbands  in  the  metrop- 
olis, and  an  explanation  can  perhaps  thus  be  found 
why  the  session  would  never  come  to  an  end,  and  why 
the  debates,  which  had  possibly  been  practiced  before- 
hand in  the  fluent  little  clubs  of  the  domestic  circle, 
now  became  unusually  hot. 

Among  those  representatives  who  sometimes  shared 
their  concern  for  the  weal  of  the  country  with  their 
better  halves,  was  Thomas  Larsson,  the  merchant  from 
A^asa,  whose  faithful  wife  had  not  given  herself  any 
rest,  until  she  had  found  an  opportunity,  the  previous 
autumn,  to  leave  her  house  in  the  care  of  her  daughters, 
and  come  across  to  Stockholm  herself,  in  order  there, 
during  the  winter,  to  dissipate  those  clouds  which  the 
troubles  of   the  country  might  gather   on  her   good- 


EVEMING  STORMS.  Ill 

man's  forehead.  The  burgher  pair  occupied  a  little 
house  on  Kungsholm,  from  which  the  husband  every 
morning  went  in  a  kuU-boat*  across  the  river,  to  his 
important  business,  while  his  good-wife  accompanied 
him  to  the  Red  Stores,  or  on  her  own  responsibility 
jogged  to  the  corn-market  to  make  purchases  for  the 
day. 

As  her  Thomas,  however,  often  remained  away 
until  late  in  the  day,  and  even  the  evenings  were  not 
secure  from  clubs  and  meetings,  it  happened  that  time 
often  became  tedious  to  good  Mistress  Larsson — (for 
the  honest  old  "dear  mother"  with  which  she  had 
been  content  in  Vasa,  was  no  longer  good  enough 
in  refined  Stockholm);  and  then  she  always  found  one 
or  another  "  mistress "  of  burgher-rank,  who,  in  the 
same  situation,  liked  to  talk  away  an  hour  over  a  two- 
ore  ginger-cake,  or,  when  elegance  was  attempted,  over 
an  Arboga  ring-cake,  with  ginger  preserves  and  sweet- 
ened water.  And  as  these  good  burgher-wives,  in  their 
first  innocence,  had  little  idea  of  the  difference  between 
Hats  and  Caps,  their  morning  conclaves  for  some  time 
formed  a  neutral  territory  where  politics  had  to  give 
place  to  the  more  important  questions  about  the  price 
of  butter  and  meat,  about  the  best  linen,  the  most  care- 
less servant  girl,  or  the  most  reasonable  grocery  in 
their  neighborhood. 

That  innocent  time  came  to  an  end  before  winter, 
when  the  untitled  estates  began  to  lord  it  over  the 
land.  Their  wives  now  heard  daily  so  much  about 
their  husbands'  importance  to  the  state,  and  conse- 
quently also  their  own,  that  they  themselves  became 
fully  persuaded  that  the  fate  of  the  realm  depended  on 
their  dignified  bearing.  The  burgher-wives  would  no 
longer  yield  to  any  of  the  aristocrats  in  the  length 
of  their  triumphal  jackets,  in  the  red  heels  of  their 
shoes,  or  in  the  immense  bows  on  their  caps;  and  when, 

*  A  kind  of  boat  rowed  with  remarkable  skill  by  tlie  Dalecarlian  girls,  and 
named  after  them  kuUa-boat,  or  kull-boat. 


112  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

riding  in  their  coaches  like  other  folks,  they  met  on 
the  road  to  the  hop-garden  any  of  the  titled  "graces" 
in  all  their  splendor,  there  might  be  two  opinions  as  to 
who  carried  herself  with  more  consciousness  of  her 
dignity,  or  with  a  more  patronizing  air  condescended 
to  greet  the  others.  If  ever  the  high-borne  head  of  a 
burgher-wife  now  bowed  lower  than  usual,  it  was  before 
a  bishop's  wife,  who  had  the  honor  of  being  untitled, 
or  before  the  wife  of  Burgomaster  Sebaldt,  the  speaker 
of  their  house,  who,  with  her  little,  plump  figure,  and 
the  incomparable  self-satisfaction  of  the  queen  of  a 
country,  on  such  occasions  did  Ics  homicurs  for  the 
whole  body. 

Old  Mrs.  Larsson,  kind  and  thoroughly  complacent, 
but  occupied  with  her  new  importance,  was  now,  on 
such  a  lonely  Saturday  afternoon,  sitting  over  her 
cracknell  and  sweetened  water,  engaged  in  a  confi- 
dential conversation  with  a  good  friend,  about  the 
effect  which  the  expected  discharge  of  the  council 
might  possibly  have  on  Norrland  linens  and  Danish 
flour,  when  a  note  on  rose-colored  paper  was  handed  to 
her,  brought,  according  to  the  declaration  of  the 
domestic,  by  a  valet  of  Bishop  Forsenius,  the  speaker 
of  the  house  of  clergy.  Wondering  what  that  right 
reverend  leader  of  the  Cap  party  could  have  to 
announce  to  her,  old  Mistress  Larsson  opened  the  per- 
fumed epistle  and  read  : 

"Honored  and  worthy  Madam:  —  As  without  doubt, 
madam,  you  will  not  absent  yourself  from  the  Great  Church, 
to-morrow,  but  will  profit  by  the  edifying  sermon  of  Provost 
Wijkman,  it  would,  for  the  situation  of  the  country-  and  the  repu- 
tation of  the  untitled  estates,  be  particularly  encouraging,  if 
you,  honored  madam,  together  with  the  wife  of  Burgomaster 
Sebaldt,  and  a  few  other  estimable  mesdames  of  the  burgher  rank, 
would  be  gracicux  enough  not  to  place  yourselves  in  the  ordinary 
seats  of  your  rank,  but  in  the  seats  of  the  wives  of  the  councilors, 
which  are  disponible,  and  which  it  is  hoped  will  soon  stand  always 
at  the  continual  disposal  of  your  honored  self  and  your  highly 
esteemed  peers." 


EVENING   STORMS.  113 

There  was  no  signature.  Good  Mistress  Larsson 
read  and  re-read  this  highly  interesting  note,  but 
on  account  of  the  many  and  fine  French  words,  could 
not  exactly  comprehend  its  contents.  That  there  was 
a  flavor  of  political  ginger,  she  thought  she  perceived, 
as  well  as  that  burghers'  wives  were  now  to  be  advanced 
to  the  dignity  of  councilors',  which  was  a  kind  of  sugar 
in  the  bottom,  and  by  no  means  seemed  to  her  incredi- 
ble. But  as  her  Thomas  was  absent,  and  so  important 
a  matter  merited  mature  deliberation,  the  old  woman 
thought  best  in  haste  to  clap  on  her  most  elegant  holi- 
day cap,  and  set  out  to  call  on  the  wife  of  Burgomaster 
Sebaldt,  in  quest  of  good  counsel. 

Arrived  there,  she  found  the  wives  of  Burgomasters 
Sundblad  and  Hgeggstrom  before  her,  on  the  very  same 
errand.  After  the  women  had  with  much  ceremony 
taken  seats,  it  was  found  that  the  wife  of  the  speaker 
had  received  a  similar  invitation,  though  with  the  art- 
ful addition  that  "  in  the  event  that  the  honored  mad- 
ame  should  depend  on  the  highly  esteemed  bur- 
gomaster's consentcinent,  it  was  hereby  wished,  only  in 
the  greatest  confidence,  to  have  tendered  the  courteous 
propos  that  the  honored  madame  and  the  other  most 
highly  esteemed  ladies  of  her  rank  might  be  encour- 
aged to  occupy  that  rank  and  that  place  in  the  church, 
which  by  right  ought  to  be  ceded  to  them!  " 

That  was  something  to  think  about!  The  powerful 
wife  of  the  speaker  was  extremely  taken  up  with  so  bril- 
liant an  idea  as  placing  her  little  person  in  the  seat  of  the 
councilors'  wives,  but  thought  it  on  the  other  hand  very 
disagreeable,  in  such  a  lawful  enterprise,  to  be  thought  to 
depend  on  her  lord's  and  husband's  ^consentcinent.'  "  My 
Sebaldt,"  said  she  with  great  dignity,  which  was  meant 
to  be  French  but  turned  out  to  be  Smalandian,  "  my 
husband  is  certainly  a  personage  which  at  present  can 
embrassera  a  councilor  in  each  boot-leg,  and  the  whole 
world  knows  that  some  day  or  other  he  is  to  be  chan- 
cellor of  justice;  but  that  is  not  saying  that  he  ought 
5*       il 


114  TIME  S  OF  AL  CHEM  Y. 

to  be  a  Christopher  Tyrant  in  his  house,  and  deny  his 
consort  a  little  innocent  amusement.  Do  the  ladies  in- 
tend to  beg  their  husbands'  protection  to  promener  into 
church,  and  placer  themselves  in  whatever  seat  suits 
them?" 

"  I  would  have  liked  just  to  ask  Thomas's  opinion, 
but  he  was  not  at  home,"  very  modestly  responded 
Mistress  Larsson. 

"  My  husband  never  has  any  opinion  except  mine," 
said  Mistress  Sundblad,  with  a  jerk  of  the  fiery  red 
bow  at  her  neck. 

"  And  my  husband,"  responded  the  wife  of  Burgo- 
master Haeggstrom,  ''always  asks  my  advice  in  matters 
of  state.  It  was  only  yesterday  that  we  consulted 
about  the  wording  of  the  royal  assurance." 

"  That  being  the  case,"  resumed  the  wife  of  the 
speaker,  with  all  the  solemnity  of  a  protocolist,  "  prob- 
ably none  of  our  husbands  will  wish  to  construere  our 
rights  and  privileges.  But  in  order  not  to  dependre  by 
tht'ir  conse?itement," — the  words  were  spoken  with  an  ex- 
tremely French  pronunciation, — "  it  would  perhaps  be 
execrable  not  to  inventorier  our  husbands  with  a  matter 
which  does  not  concern  them  ;  or  what  do  you  think, 
ladies  ?" 

Mistress  Larsson  entertained  some  scruples,  but 
the  majority  accorded  with  the  views  of  the  speaker's 
wife. 

"  Are  the  instructions,  then,  that  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, at  nine  o'clock,  we  precede'r-a  ourselves  in  the 
Great  Church,  and  confonder-a  our  future  situation  ? " 
further  inquired  the  chairman. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

"  If  the  ladies  will  please  abstraire  themselves  into 
my  house  on  the  way,  as  I  happen  to  live  in  Kopman 
Square,  quite  near  the  church,  we  can  accompany  each 
other's  conduit^ 

"  Our  most  humble  thanks  for  the  privilege,"  re- 
plied the  women,  and  with  low  courtesies  withdrew. 


I 


EVENING  STORMS.  115 


CHAPTER    XXI, 

THE   SEAT    OF    THE    COUNCILORS*    WIVES. 

*'  A  RE  you  going  to  church  to-day,  my  dear  ? "  said 
£^^  Mistress  Larsson,  with  the  most  innocent  mien 
in  the  world,  to  her  husband,  on  Sunday  morning,  after 
she  had  vainly  tried  all  night  long  to  get  a  wink  of 
sleep,  from  anxiety  over  her  unwonted  and  mysterious 
senatorial  dignity. 

"  Haven't  time,"  bluntly  replied  the  husband. 

"  I  mean  to  go  to  the  Great  Church,  if  you  have 
nothing  against  it,"  added  his  faithful,  well-trained 
wife. 

"  Indeed." 

"  Provost  Wijkman  is  going  to  preach  about  the 
greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  He  is  a  nice 
preacher,  and  then  so  pathetic!" 

"  Indeed." 

"  We  all  need  to  be  reminded  about  being  humble, 
when  such  high  dignities  have  been  bestowed  on  us. 
Have  you  not  a  desire  to  hear  Wijkman  preach  ?" 

"No." 

"  Why  not,  dear  Thomas  ?  " 

"  He  preaches  every  day  in  the  house." 

"  Can  it  be  true  that  all  the  un-titled  representatives 
are  hereafter  to  be  peers  of  councilors?" 

"  Nonsense  !  " 

"  But  I  have  heard  that  all  the  representatives' 
wives  are  hereafter  to  sit  in  a  more  aristocratic  place 
in  church." 

"  Silly  gossip  !  " 

"  But  my  dear  .  .  .  ." 

"  Let  me  alone." 


116  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

The  good  wife  knew  what  that  signified.  She  did 
not  venture  to  utter  a  word  further  about  the  import- 
ant secret  which  lay  on  her  heart,  although  it  tried  with 
all  its  might  to  get  out.  In  her  great  anxiety,  she  re- 
solved once  more  to  call  in  the  advice  of  the  other 
women,  so,  putting  on  her  most  elegant  wrap,  she  went 
to  Mistress  Sebaldt's. 

Mistresses  Sundblad  and  Haeggstrom  were  already 
there,  engaged  in  a  new  conference  with  their  speaker's 
wife.  It  transpired  that  the  two  first  mentioned,  quite 
as  little  as  Mistress  Larsson,  had  been  able  to  keep  the 
great  secret  altogether  from  their  life  companions,  but 
both  had  been  frightened  to  silence  by  their  husbands' 
objections,  before  they  had  had  time  to  reveal  the 
whole  importance  and  nature  of  the  matter.  All  three, 
therefore,  awaited  the  decisive  judgment  from  the  wise 
lips  of  the  speaker's  wife. 

"  I,  for  my  part,"  declared  the  wife  of  Burgomaster 
Sebaldt,  with  much  importance,  "  I,  for  my  part  have 
resolved  to  obstruer  my  husband  an  agreable  siirpris. 
He  is  so  modified,  my  good  Sebaldt,  that  he  might  per- 
haps, from  sheer  modcstie,  ceder  what  the  cstime  estates 
of  the  realm  please  to  insist  upon  for  himself  and  us. 
I  propose  that  we  posseder  our  situation^  as  has  already 
been  said.  Not  for  our  own  sake,  heaven  preserve  us, 
but  in  order  to  satire r  liberty  and  the  country." 

"Of  course,"  put  in  Mistresses  Sundblad  and 
Haeggstrom.     "  The  whole  affair  is  to  saiiver  liberty." 

Old  Mistress  Larsson  was  silent.  She  was  out-voted 
before  she  had  yet  ventured  to  open  her  mouth. 

So  all  four  of  the  women,  tricked  out  in  their  best, 
betook  themselves  in  marching  order,  with  the  speak- 
er's wife  at  the  head,  to  the  Great  Church  near  by,  to 
hear  Provost  Wijkman  preach  about  the  greatest  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

Before  we  follow  the  women  further  on  their  hope- 
ful way  to  the  dignity  of  councilors'  wives,  it  will  be  in 
order  to  mention  a  note  which  door-keeper  Ostergren 


EVENING  STORMS.  117 

of  the  Great  Church  had  received  the  day  before,  and 
which  he  supposed  had  been  sent  him  by  Baron  Hop- 
ken,  the  leader  of  the  Hats.  In  this  note,  or  order,  as 
he  regarded  it,  the  door-keeper  was  informed  how 
some  women  of  the  burgher  rank  were  laying  the  pre- 
sumptuous plan  to  crowd  themselves  during  the  next 
service  of  high  mass  into  the  seat  of  the  councilors' 
wives,  wherefore  he,  Ostergren,  must  take  necessary 
means  and  steps  to  prevent  such  effrontery.  But  in 
order  to  assure  himself  if  the  boldness  of  the  untitled 
estates  really  went  so  far,  he  was  advised  in  the  first 
place  purposely  to  leave  the  pew-door  open,  that  it 
might  be  seen  who  they  were  that  in  this  manner  tried 
to  defy  all  law  and  decency. 

Nothing  more  was  needed.  Door-keeper  Oster- 
gren had  been  promoted  to  his  present  occupation, 
from  the  certainly  honorable  but  more  dependent  office 
of  valet  to  the  greatest  magnate  of  the  realm,  Earl  Axel 
Fersen.  Consequently  that  servant  of  the  church  was 
not  only  an  out-and-out  Hat,  from  the  crown  of  his 
head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  but  if  possible  a  still  more 
inveterate  aristocrat,  who  hated  all  the  un-titled  worse 
than  sin,  especially  that  rabble,  as  he  expressed  him- 
self, who,  in  addition,  had  the  impudence  to  be  Caps. 

Utterly  ignorant  of  the  danger  threatening  them, 
the  women  meantime  arrived  at  the  Great  Church,  and 
walked  boldly  in  under  Saint  George  and  the  Dragon. 
Divine  service  had  not  yet  begun,  and  yet  the  church 
was  already  full  of  auditors  who  had  come  to  hear  a 
representative  preach.  As  is  usually  the  case  during 
such  a  waiting  before  service,  the  thoughts  of  the  con- 
gregation were  for  the  moment  of  quite  a  worldly 
nature.  Most  of  them  passed  away  the  time  in  staring 
at  the  new-comers,  and  making  remarks  on  this  or  that 
one  who  tried  to  crowd  into  a  full  seat,  or  on  others 
who  would  not  make  room,  although  the  seat  was  only 
half  full. 

Nowadays,  the  custom  in  Stockholm  is.  that  almost 


lis  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

all  sittings  are  paid  for  in  advance  by  a  special  pev- 
tax;  and  not  until  the  pulpit-psalm  begins,  does  the 
door-keeper  unlock  a  part  of  the  pews  whose  occupants 
have  not  arrived  in  time.  At  the  period  of  this  story, 
such  rented  pews  were  restricted  to  the  nobility  and 
high  officers  of  state,  together  with  the  estates  of  the 
realm.  Under  the  royal  gallery,  foremost  to  the  right, 
facing  the  altar,  were  the  pews  of  the  councilors  and 
their  families;  after  them,  other  distinguished  persons 
had  their  seats;  and  last  of  all,  the  estates  had  their 
carefully  appointed  places. 

Inspected,  like  the  others,  as  they  walked  forward, 
the  women,  with  their  speaker's  wife  in  the  lead,  ap- 
proached the  ordinary  pews  for  burghers;  but  to  the 
great  astonishment  of  all — among  them  Burgomasters 
Sebaldt,  Sundblad,  and  Hsggstrom — went  past,  and  in 
the  consciousness  of  their  importance,  crowded  on  and 
on  between  the  people  in  the  aisles,  until  they  had 
finally  forced  their  way  to  the  pew  of  the  councilors' 
wives. 

A  couple  of  countesses  were  already  sitting  there 
in  all  their  magnificence,  but  as  the  door  was  unlocked 
the  wife  of  Burgomaster  Sebaldt  quickly  turned  the  but- 
ton, opened  the  door,  and  without  hesitation  walked 
in.  The  rest  followed  her,  themselves  amazed  at  their 
boldness,  but  with  the  firm  resolve  to  peril  everything 
"  for  liberty." 

To  depict  the  mien  of  the  ladies  already  seated,  or 
the  astonishment  of  the  rest,  at  this  assurance  un- 
paralleled in  the  annals  of  Stockholm  and  the  Great 
Church,  would  require  at  the  very  least  the  pencil  of  a 
Hogarth.  The  spectators  nearest  the  intruders  scarcely 
believed  their  eyes,  and  those  farther  away  arose  to 
their  feet  in  the  pews.  If  an  ape  had  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  the  royal  gallery,  it  could  not  have  brought 
about  a  greater  church  scandal. 

"No,  my  dear  friends,  let  us  go  out  again!  "  en- 


EVENING   STORMS.  119 

treated  modest  Mistress  Larsson,  extremely  frightened 
and  embarrassed  at  the  commotion. 

"  We  shall  sit  where  we  are,"  undauntedly  replied 
the  wife  of  the  speaker. 

Hardly  was  this  said,  before  Door-keeper  Ostergren 
showed  himself  at  the  pew  door,  dark  and  terrible  as 
Saint  George's  dragon. 

"  The  mesdames  will  come  out.  This  is  the  pew 
of  the  councilors'  wives!''  said  that  faithful  guardian 
of  the  aristocracy's  dignity,  sufficiently  loud  to  be 
heard  by  a  hundred  persons  in  the  vicinity. 

"  The  mesdames!  "  That  struck  the  ear  of  the 
speaker's  wife  as  the  basest  insult.  But  the  women 
were  deaf,  and  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"  The  mesdames  will  come  out! "  threateningly 
repeated  the  door-keeper. 

The  speaker's  wife  looked  around.  The  burghers 
were  sitting  too  far  away  to  come  to  her  aid;  but  not- 
withstanding this,  she  would  by  no  means  cede  her 
rights,  especially  as  the  whole  affair  might  be  a  mis- 
understanding. 

"  I  am  the  wife  of  Burgomaster  Sebaldt,"  she  re- 
plied, in  the  certain  expectation  that  whatever  might 
happen  to  her  sisters  in  misfortune,  s/ie  at  least  would 
be  allowed  to  remain  in  undisturbed  possession. 

"  That  is  nothing  to  me.  I  say  that  the  mesdames 
will  come  out! "  once  more  repeated  the  inexorable 
familiar  spirit,  and  when  this,  his  third  order,  did  not 
seem  to  have  any  better  effect  than  the  preceding,  he 
without  ceremony  grasped  one  struggling  woman  after 
another  by  the  arm,  and  led  them  out  of  the  pew. 

Three  of  them  obeyed  like  frightened  lambs,  but 
not  so  the  speaker's  wife.  "  I  will  let  you  know,  impu- 
dent fellow,  that  my  husband  is  speaker  of  the  house  of 
burghers,  and  that  I  am  inventercd  by  Bishop  Fors- 
senius,  and  that  the  estates  of  the  reahn  will  have  you 
put  in  the  Rose-chamber!  "  exclaimed  the  thoroughly 
exasperated  woman. 


120  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"■  And  I  shall  put  you  in  the  stocks,  madam,  if  you 
remain  here  and  raise  a  church  scandal  !  Will  you 
get  yourself  out  of  the  way,  and  hold  your  tongue?" 

Blazing  red  with  rage  and  shame,  the  women 
retreated  from  the  church.  Alas,  alas,  poor  wife  of 
the  speaker!  If  all  the  congregation  in  the  Great 
Church  of  Stockholm  could  have  read  your  heart,  as 
they  became  witness  to  your  unprecedented  defeat, 
what  an  immeasurable  fall  would  they  have  discovered, 
from  the  topmost  step  of  honor  to  the  deepest  valley  of 
humiliation! 


i 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MARCHIONESS    EGMONT. 

IN  the  evening  of  the  same  day  when  the  burghers' 
wives  were  deposed  from  senatorial  dignity,  was 
the  soiree  en  famille  at  the  residence  of  Marchioness 
Egmont,  on  Drottning  street.  Like  a  brilliant  meteor 
had  this  young  French  woman  just  arisen  on  the  hori- 
zon, to  throw  all  others  into  the  shade.  A  widow 
somewhat  over  twenty  years  of  age,  survivor  of  an  old 
colonel,  she  had  a  few  years  ago,  at  the  residence  of 
her  husband's  niece,  the  celebrated  Countess  Egmont 
of  Paris,  had  the  honor  of  being  presented  to  the 
crown  prince  of  Sweden;  and  whether  it  was  that  high 
acquaintance,  or  a  desire  to  see  the  north,  or  merely  a 
caprice — for  what  young  lady  in  her  position  would 
not  regard  this  last  reason  perfectly  sufficient? — suffice 
it  to  say,  the  marchioness,  during  the  last  summer,  had 
made  a  pleasure  trip  of  some  weeks  to  Sweden,  and 
those  weeks  were  not  yet  ended.     She  rented   a  hand- 


EVENING  STORMS.  121 

some  suite  of  apartments,  surrounded  herself  with  a 
luxury  which  was  suggestive  of  enormous  wealth,  and 
beheld  everything  that  Stockholm  then  possessed 
of  aristocracy  and  brilliancy  throng  her  salons. 
First,  King  Gustaf;  next,  his  haughty  but  animated 
mother,  the  queen  dowager;  then  all  his  court,  his 
statesmen,  his  military  men,  the  most  prominent  party 
leaders,  artists,  poets,  literati,  all  singed  their  wings  in 
this  southern  sun,  or  vied  at  least  in  showing  her  their 
homage, — all  except  a  single  one,  and  that  was  Queen 
Sophia  Magdalena,  the  king's  young,  good,  but  timid 
consort.  She  alone  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to 
allow  this  new  charmer  to  be  presented  to  her;  far  less 
had  she  condescended  to  honor  her  with  a  visit;  and 
the  ever-ready  court  gossip  thought  it  very  well  knew 
the  cause.  It  was  said  that  the  queen  was  jealous, — 
and  not  without  reason. 

Why,  indeed,  should  the  queen  be  the  only  one  of 
her  sex  who  did  not  secretly  cherish  such  feelings  ?  All 
young  and  many  elderly  aristocratic  ladies  were  silently 
agreed  that  Marchioness  Herminie  Egmont  might  have 
been  regarded  as  a  passably  well-formed  and  even  not 
disagreeable  personage, — if  she  had  not  had  the  bad 
habit  of  winking  with  her  eyes,  if  the  same  eyes  had 
not  been  of  a  too  undecided  color,  if  her  nose  had  not 
been  too  large,  her  mouth  too  small,  her  hair  too  black, 
her  complexion  too  brown,  her  form  too  full,  her  gait 
too  dancing,  her  clothes  too  short,  her  feet  too  small, 
et  cetera,  et  cetera.  Could  any  one  deny  that  she  lisped  ? 
Was  she  not  altogether  too  coquettish  ?  Did  she  not 
like  to  be  complimented  ?  And  then  she  laughed  too 
much,  and  then  she  wept  too  much,  and  then  she  chat- 
tered too  much,  and  then, — in  short,  she  might,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  ladies,  have  possessed  all  possible  merits  if 
she  had  not  instead  possessed  all  possible  faults.  Her 
greatest  defect,  of  course,  was  that  she  ventured  to 
charm  all  men,  young  and  old,  who  came  into  her 
presence. 
6 


122  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

^^'hat  had  not  already  been  told  and  lied  about  that 
lovely,  gay  French  woman,  because  she  did  not  walk, 
stand,  sit,  think,  speak,  weep  and  laugh  precisely  like 
all  others  !  What  calumnies  had  not  already  been  set 
in  circulation,  what  tender  connections  had  not  already 
been  imputed  to  her,  without  a  glimmer  of  proof  as  to 
their  truth  !  And  she  knew  it  very  well,  but  she 
laughed  at  it.  She  was  like  the  shining  swan  of  the 
fable,  at  which  envy  was  continually  throwing  clods  of 
dirt,  but  which  merrily  dived  into  the  clear  billows,  and 
came  up  just  as  white  as  before. 

She  had  now  gathered  around  her  a  little  circle  of 
intimate  friends,  perhaps  about  a  hundred  persons. 
Here  the  Hats  forgot  their  hat,  and  the  Caps  their  cap; 
in  the  presence  of  the  universal  monarchy  of  delight 
the  parties  abdicated,  and  the  noisy  discord  of  the  time 
seemed,  like  a  drunken  lackey,  to  have  paused  in  the 
entry,  with  cloak  upon  his  arm.  In  these  brilliant 
halls  of  pleasure,  around  this  charming  fairy  who 
playfully  scattered  the  fragrance  of  flowers  around  her 
wherever  she  went,  a  morning  beam  of  that  sunshine 
was  already  seen  which  was  soon  to  irradiate  the  days 
of  Gustaf  in.  That  was  why  the  king  thrived  well 
there,  just  as  the  butterfly  seeks  the  sunbeam;  but  the 
stiff,  genteel  ladies  from  the  former  moss-grown  court, 
where  every  step  was  interpreted  as  politic,  where  every 
expression  of  frankness  was  a  sin,  and  every  conciliatory 
smile  a  protest  against  the  diet  contention, — they  did 
not  thrive  well  in  the  salons  of  Marchioness  Egmont, 
although  they  visited  them  often  enough  from  curiosity 
or  "to  rescue  liberty." 

One  of  "the  intimate"  in  this  select  society  was 
Count  Bernhard  Bertelskold,  who  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  marchioness  in  Paris,  and  had 
been  the  first  to  incite  her  to  visit  the  north.  Those 
who,  with  us,  have  seen  that  young  man  of  the  world 
only  from  a  somewhat  disagreeable  point  of  view, 
would    perhaps    have   been    inclined    to    modify   their 


EVENING  STORMS.  123 

Opinion  if  they  had  seen  him  in  a  drawing-room  like 
this,  among  whose  masculine  ornaments  he  might  with 
reason  be  reckoned.  He  there  shone  with  all  those 
qualities  which  make  a  man  popular  in  social  life.  He 
was  gay,  entertaining,  witty,  and,  when  occasion 
required,  even  naughty.  He  was  a  good  and  inex- 
haustible story-teller,  but  never  tedious  ;  he  was  an 
adept  in  that  delicate  gallantry  which  never  seems  to 
flatter,  and  yet  does  flatter  in  every  word  ;  he  had 
brilliant  acquirements  without  seeming  to  know  it ;  he 
was  all  eyes  and  ears  for  the  one  with  whom  he  was 
talking ;  and,  while  a  subtle  calculation  was  concealed 
in  each  of  his  steps,  he  seemed  never  to  fix  the  least 
attention  upon  himself. 

But  if,  through  all  this.  Count  Bernhard  was  a  per- 
fect Frenchman,  especially  in  the  art  of  conversation, 
which  then  constituted  the  flower  of  the  refined  culture 
and  social  life  of  the  time,  in  Marchioness  Egmont 
he  had  found  his  superior.  It  was  not  that  she  sur- 
passed him  in  wit,  talents,  or  fluency  ;  but  with  her 
was  found  that  something  which  the  count  lacked, — 
that  warm  background  which  gives  every  object  a 
bolder  relief,  and  which  can  never  be  replaced  by  a 
glittering  surface  without  depth.  Like  all  others,  the 
count  had  at  first  looked  upon  her  as  one  of  those 
ladies  of  the  great  world  whose  whole  contents,  like 
the  flower  vase,  consists  of  the  perishable  bouquets  with 
which  they  are  from  time  to  time  ornamented.  But  he 
deceived  himself.  He  there  found  something  which 
defied  all  the  keenness  of  his  vision,  and  which  he  suc- 
ceeded neither  in  penetrating  nor  outwitting,  and  that 
was  a  woman's  heart. 

But  ought  this  to  discourage  him  ?  What  signified 
to  him  a  woman's  heart  ?  Had  he  not  a  hundred  times 
squeezed  out  such  citrons,  and  afterward  thrown  them 
empty  aside  ?  But  this  singular  French  woman  did 
not  at  all  allow  herself  to  be  squeezed  out.  She  seemed 
to  have  her  heart  on  her  tongue;  and  yet  it  was  no 


124  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

more  to  be  captured  than  the  moonHght  in  the  fountain. 
Count  Bernhard's  vanity  was  wounded  by  that  perver- 
sity. He  made  use  by  turns  of  the  witty,  the  senti- 
mental, or  the  persuasive  genre,  but  all  in  vain.  He 
shot  away  all  the  arrows  from  his  quiver,  and  all, 
equally  powerless,  rebounded  from  that  little,  insignifi- 
cant woman-heart,  which  seemed  a  prey  for  the  first 
fop  who  cared  to  lay  it  at  his  feet,  and  yet  mocked  the 
most  practiced  wholesale  dealer  that  ever  traded  in 
such  wares. 

Count  Bernhard  was  not  wont  to  retire  beaten  from 
the  field.  He  secretly  swore  that  he  would  have  that 
enigmatical  being,  if  for  nothing  but  to  punish  her; 
and  when  this  thought  had  once  found  a  place  in  his 
diplomatic  head,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  on  the 
whole  it  was  not  so  bad.  He  said  to  himself  that, 
leaving  out  of  the  question  all  the  personal  agreeable- 
ness  of  the  subject,  a  marchioness  with  such  rank, 
such  wealth,  and  such  powerful  relations,  both  in  Paris 
and  Stockholm,  was  quite  a  suitable  match.  Well, 
what  hindered  him  from  transformmg  her  to  a  Coun- 
tess Bertelskold  ?  Nothing  but  the  lack  of  her  consent. 

'■'■Nousverrons,"  thought  the  count.  "We  shall  see." 

That  evening  the  political  fermentation  was  so 
strong  in  Stockholm  that  not  even  the  drawing-room 
of  Marchioness  Egmont  could  preserve  its  noted 
neutrality.  While,  nearest  to  the  marchioness,  some 
were  singing  and  dancing,  or,  with  mingled  delight  and 
shrugs,  were  listening  to  a  declamation  from  the  opera 
"  Thetis  and  Pelee,"  first  conjured  forth  by  Gustaf  HI, 
a  shadow  of  the  time's  dark  cloud  fell  on  the  more 
remote  parts  of  the  salon  and  side-rooms,  where  some 
gentlemen  of  "  Svenska  Botten "  were  secretly  dis- 
cussing the  questions  of  the  day  with  their  leader, 
Baron  Sprengtport. 

"The  three  days  are  past,"  said  they  to  him,  "and 
the  situation  is  every  moment  becoming  more  threaten- 
ing.    What  ought  we  to  do  ? " 


EVENING   STORMS.  135 

"Wait,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Frederick  Aminoff  has  just  met  persons  who  had 
come  from  the  clubs  of  the  Caps.  The  demagogues 
make  the  most  insolent  speeches,  and  openly  declare 
that  the  nobility  ought  to  be  exterminated.  The  peas- 
ants grumble,  the  burghers  double  their  fists,  and  the 
clergy  ring  the  alarm-bell  like  madmen.  We  must  do 
something, — but  what  ?  " 

"Wait." 

"Wait  ?  That  is  impossible.  The  rabble  is  furious. 
The  council  will  decidedly  be  lost  in  the  ballots  of  to- 
morrow, and,  the  day  after,  we  shall  see  provosts, 
burgomasters  and  jurymen  flaunting  in  the  seats. 
Do  you  really  believe,  baron,  that  we  can  behold  all 
this  spectacle  with  folded  arms  ?  What,  in  Heaven's 
name,  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Wait  !  " 

An  unusually  noisy  laughter  from  a  circle  farther 
away  interrupted  the  speakers.  It  was  Count  Bertel- 
skold,  telling  the  story  about  the  mishap  of  the  four 
women  at  the  Great  Church. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

STORMING    A    HEART. 

THE  anecdote  about  the  four  women  was  very 
timely.  All  thought  it  extremely  pleasant  that 
burgher  haughtiness  had  finally  succeeded  in  arousing 
a  general  church  scandal,  and  all  vied  in  making  the 
poor  women  the  objects  of  their  stinging  witticisms. 

"  The  frog  in  Lafontaine's  fable  could  not  have 
done  it  better,"  was  the  opinion  of  some. 

"  The  ladies  always  have  the  privilege  of  expressing 
the  opinion  of  the  gentlemen,"  said  another. 


lop  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  And  suffering  for  it !  "  suggested  a  third. 

''  The  congregation  ought  to  have  arisen  and  sung 
Te  Deum,"  mockingly  responded  others. 

"  The  more  so,  as  Provost  Wijkman  is  said  to  have 
preached,  on  the  same  occasion,  a  very  edifying  sermon 
about  the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,"  said 
Count  Bertelskold. 

"  Next  to  burghers'  wives,  provosts  are  indisput- 
ably the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

"  But  why  did  they  not  let  the  bourgeoisie  remain  ?  " 
asked  the  young  hostess  of  the  day,  with  an  impatient 
little  toss  of  her  handsome  head. 

"Why  !  "  responded  Bertelskold.  "  Because  not  all 
ladies  content  themselves  with  ruling  only  by  their 
charms.  The  ladies  of  the  bourgeoisie  had,  in  the 
church  door-keeper,  a  cavalier  who  was  perfectly  suited 
to  them,  and  who  gave  them  all  the  civility  they  were 
capable  of  comprehending.  Admit  that  he  rendered 
ihem  a  real  knightly  service.  If  he  had  not  to-day 
obliged  them  to  deprive  the  councilors'  ladies  of  their 
agreeable  company,  they  would  next  Sunday  have  hon- 
ored the  royal  gallery  with  their  presence." 

"  And  what  if  they  did  ?  " 

"  Enter  the  royal  gallery  ?  " 

"Yes,  why  should  they  not?  Are  not  all  equal  in 
the  presence  of  the  King  of  Kings  ?  Ought  not  all 
places  in  a  church  to  have  the  same  rank  ?" 

"  My  lady,  who  is  elevated  above  all  rank,  can  say 
that,"  replied  the  count,  "  but  we  other  weak  mortals 
suffer  from  certain  prejudices.  We  think,  for  instance, 
that  a  yard-stick  is  hardly  suitable  for  a  scepter." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  I  remember  that  a  mer- 
chant's family,  by  the  name  of  Medici,  made  a  not  bad 
beginning  on  the  throne.  And  for  the  rest,  if  the 
bourgeoisie  do  make  their  reverence  to  us  on  the  street, 
or  in  our  hall,  because  we  wear  a  title,  in  what  law  is 
it  written  that  we  are  to  carry  our  vanity  to  the  foot  of 
the  Almighty's   throne  ?      Do  you   really  believe,  my 


EVENING   STORMS.  127 

dear  count,  that  posterity  is  going  to  look  on  our  high 
places  in  church  with  the  same  solemn  earnestness  as 
do  we  ?  And  when  we  go  so  far  in  our  profound  rev- 
erence for  power  that  we  call  our  dead  princes  and 
kings  most  highly  blessed,  has  it  never  occurred  to  you 
that  some  day  there  will  be  a  smile  of  undying  ridicule 
at  such  foolishness  ?  " 

"You  are  Rousseau's  countrywoman,  my  lady;  you 
have  a  right  to  be  a  rebel." 

"  No,  pardon  me,  Rousseau  was  born  in  Geneva,  a 
little  point  of  the  world  which  has  the  honor  of  being 
a  commonwealth  like  Sweden.  The  difference  is  only 
that  in  Geneva  genius  is  honored  with  royal  demon- 
strations of  honor,  while  in  Sweden  the  lament  is  that 
there  is  a  genius  on  the  throne  ....  Will  you  allow 
me  ?  " 

And,  with  that  untroubled  freedom  which  the  Swed- 
ish ladies  of  that  old  time  regarded  as  so  improper, 
the  marchioness  took  his  arm. 

They  promenaded  through  the  drawing-room,  and 
sat  down  in  the  half  obscurity  of  a  magnificent  dimly- 
illuminated  cabinet. 

"  Now  or  never  !  "  thought  Count  Bernhard.  In 
vain  had  he  lavished  phrases  of  all  sorts  on  this  capri- 
cious being.     He  must  invent  something  new. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "you  are  truly  the  worst  rebel 
I  know.  It  is  not  enough  that  you  defy  the  tenderest 
admiration  of  a  man  who  adores  you.  You  are  able 
to  defy  a  whole  kingdom." 

"  Really?     Is  that  intended  for  a  compliment?  " 

"  As  you  please.  You  pretend  to  be  a  democrat, 
and  you  are  conspiring  for  royal  authority.' 

"I?" 

"  You,  yourself.  You  have  honored  Sweden  with  a 
visit  merely  to  overturn  what  you  call  its  republican 
form  of  government,  and  again  place  on  the  throne  an 
absolute  king." 


128  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  you  really  do  me  altogether  too 
much  honor." 

"  I  am  perfectly  in  earnest.  All  the  world  knows 
that  you  are  just  as  dangerous  as  lovely.  But  all  the 
world  does  not  know  that  you  are  a  political  character. 
Pardon  me  for  venturing  to  be  the  first  to  tell  you  of 
it." 

"No,  what  is  it  you  say?  I  a  political  character? 
Why,  that  is  excellent.  I  admire  your  keen  sight,  but 
you  would  lay  me  under  great  obligation  if  you  would 
please  impart  to  me  something  more  about  your  im- 
portant discovery." 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  possess  all  the  qualities  re- 
quired for  a  political  intrigue.  You  are  as  intelligent 
as  you  are  beautiful,  as  enterprising  as  you  are  intelli- 
gent, and  as  shrewd  as  you  are  enterprising.  Incred- 
ible as  it  may  appear,  you  are  even  able  to  keep  a 
secret.  No  one  suspects  you,  and  you  have  all  possi- 
ble liberty  to  put  yourself  in  connection  with  all  part- 
ies, just  as  you  gather  around  you  a  life-guard  of  all 
possible  colors,  but  who  are  all  agreed  about  blindly 
obeying  your  least  signal.     Have  I  guessed  rightly  ?  " 

"  Continue  !  I  am  extremely  interested  to  learn 
all  my  merits." 

"  You  are  preparing  for  a  political  coup,  madame. 
And  why  should  you  not  venture  the  same  which  so 
many  beautiful  ladies  before  you  have  ventured  and 
carried  out?  '  Providence  would  be  too  immediate  in 
its  effects  if  it  permitted  a  revolution  to  come  to  pass 
without  the  aid  of  women  and  clergymen.'  I  do  not, 
however,  assume  to  play  the  role  of  a  father-confessor. 
You  are  a  personal  friend  of  Countess  Daschkoff, 
to  whom  Catherine  II.  is  indebted  for  the  throne.  I  am 
sure  she  has  given  you  the  best  advice — for  instance,  to 
assure  yourself  of  the  royal  guard,  or  '  Svenska 
Botten.'  But  nevertheless  I  must  warn  you,  madame, 
for  you  are  on  a  fair  way  to — the  cloister  or  the  scaf- 
fold." 


EVENING   STORMS.  129 

The  marchioness  fixed  on  the  speaker  her  small, 
mischievous,  brown  eyes,  and  a  sarcastic  smile  curled 
her  fascinating  lips.  Count  Bernhard  thought  he 
observed,  however,  that  the  roses  on  her  cheeks  lost 
color,  as  she  said  with  a  nod: 

"  Go  on  !  Your  story  is  becoming  more  and  more 
romantic." 

"  You  have  calculated  upon  everything,  madame — 
except  those  eyes  which  have  seen  through  you.  One 
little  mistake  is  sufficient  to  destroy  the  effect  of  all 
your  rare  qualities,  and  you  are  not  altogether  fault- 
less.    Allow  me  to  say  that  you  are  very  imprudent." 

"  Ah  !  At  last  a  shady  side  to  my  political  person- 
ality !  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  indiscreet.  You  ought  not  to  have 
ridden  yesterday  to  Haga,  under  the  pretext  of  an  excur- 
sion. It  has  been  discovered  that  you  have  had  secret 
meetings  with  the  king.  And  on  the  return  home  you 
ought  not  to  have  let  your  horse  run  away,  in  order  to 
shut  yourself  indoors  all  day  yesterday,  under  the  pre- 
text that  you  had  been  overcome  with  terror  at  the 
accident,  or  perhaps  injured  by  a  fall." 

"  You  are  well  informed,  I  see.  Saladin,  my  young 
Arabian,  was  frightened  by  an  old  woman  who  was 
bringing  pine  boughs  to  town,  and  I  was  really  almost 
thrown  from  the  saddle.  The  reason  why  I  was  not 
cannot  interest  you.  You  there  see  why  I  could  not 
receive  visits  yesterday.  But,  as  you  observe,  I  am  so 
far  recovered  to-day  that  I  can  without  danger  con- 
tinue my  course  to  the  cloister  or  the  scaffold." 

"  Once  more,  madame,  I  am  not  your  father-con- 
fessor. Neither  have  I  ever  doubted  your  courage, 
but  I  doubt  your  success.  Do  not  depend  on  the 
king.  All  his  chivalry  will  not  prevent  his  forsaking 
you  when  his  crown  has  need  of  a  sacrifice.  Associate 
yourself  rather  with  a  man  who  will  never  forsake  you, 
and  who  will  regard  it  an  honor  to  serve  you,  when  by 
that  means  he  can  make  the  fortunes  of  his  country," 
J 


130  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  How  ?  You  would  be  magnanimous  enough  to 
enter  into  political  partnership  with  a  person  who  to- 
morrow, perhaps,  will  be  charged  with  high  treason  ? " 

"  Listen  to  me,  madanie  !  I  belong  to  a  party 
whose  fate,  for  the  present,  is  nearly  connected  with 
that  of  the  king,  and  which  will  therefore  make  every 
effort  to  win  success  for  that  very  plan  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking.  The  Hat  party  now  stands  or 
falls  with  royal  power.  WitJiout  us,  neither  you  nor 
the  king  has  the  power  to  bring  about  a  revolution. 
With  us,  on  the  other  hand,  everything  is  practicable. 
Neither  is  it  probably  unknown  to  you  that  I  possess 
an  influence  which  can  benefit  or  injure  according  as 
it  is  employed  for  or  against.  So — I  will  not  impor- 
tune you  with  a  declaration  of  love,  although  it  is  in 
your  power  to  make  me  the  happiest  of  mortals,  but 
permit  me  to  show  myself  worthy  of  your  friendship  !'' 

"  And  if  it  does  not  please  me  to  grant  you  that, 
then  you  will  of  course  become  my  bitterest  enemy  ? " 

"  Why  so  ?  Let  us  be  perfectly  candid.  You  are 
young  and  charming,  but  you  are  also  ambitious,  and 
I  do  not  censure  you  for  a  fault  which  you  share  with 
all  exalted  souls.  Well,  madame,  I  offer  you  every- 
thing that  a  legitimate  ambition  can  find  desirable  in 
life.  You  shall  subvert  a  wretched  form  of  govern- 
ment, and  in  its  stead  place  a  model  for  all  ages.  You 
shall  rescue  a  young  king,  who  has  only  one  single 
fault,  which  is  that  he  cannot  belong  to  you,  just  as 
5'ou  cannot  belong  to  him,  and  you  shall  merit  the 
admiration  not  only  of  Sweden  but  of  all  Europe.  All 
this  I  offer  you,  if  you  .  .  .  .   " 

"'....  Will  fall  down  and  worship  me  ? '  " 

"  -I  did  not  believe  that  the  book  you  quote  would 
be  found  in  your  library.  It  is  I  who  will  adore  you, 
madame  !  AH  this  I  offer  you  if  you  will  bestow  on 
me  this  lovely  hand,  which  the  whole  world  might 
envy  me." 

For  a  few  moments  the  marchioness  was  silent;  then. 


EVENING   STORMS.  131 

lightly  as  a  bird,  she  sprung  to  the  ilowers  at  the  win- 
dow, and  came  back  smiling  with  a  little  basket  full  of 
grapes. 

"  Have  the  kindness,  Monsieur  le  Comfe  ?  You  are 
heated — you  need  something  with  which  to  refresh 
yourself." 

"  Marchioness  !  "  whispered  Count  Bernhard,  as  a 
flush  of  anger  overspread  his  cheeks,  and  all  his  diplo- 
matic self-possession  was  on  the  point  of  failing  him, 
"  I  am  not  to  be  jested  with,  unpunished  !  " 

"  The  idea  of  my  jesting  with  you  !  What  do  you 
think  of  me  ?  Sit  down,  I  beg  you.  I  have  reserved 
an  agreeable  little  surprise  for  you,  and  it  was  on  that 
account  that  I  took  the  liberty  to  bring  you  hither.  I 
believe  I  told  you  that  yesterday  I  came  near  being 
thrown  from  the  saddle.  A  young  man  then  suddenly 
darted  forward,  and  at  the  risk  of  his  life  stopped  my 
running  horse.  I  wonder  if  you  can  guess  who  my 
rescuer  was  ?  " 

"  I  never  guess  riddles,  madame." 

"  It  may  nevertheless  interest  you,  as  it  did  me;  for 
that  young  man  gave  me  his  company  yesterday  while 
I  was  alone,  and  had  the  goodness  to  be  very  candid 
with  me.  Why,  Monsieur  le  Cointe,  do  you  guess  noth- 
ing ?  You  are  not  even  jealous  ?  There,  you  must  put 
off  that  ugly  look,  for  it  is  not  becoming  to  you,  and 
you  shall  instead  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  young 
man,  you  know.  He  is  a  lovable  youth,  I  assure  you. 
Judge  for  yourself  !  " 

With  these  words  the  marchioness  opened  a  little 
side  door  and  said: 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  come  out,  monsieur.  Some 
one  is  here  who  wishes  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

A  young  man,  clad  in  black,  stepped  out  into  the 
dim  light. 

"  Paul  !  "  exclaimed  Count  Bernhard,  blanching. 

It  was  Paul. 


133  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HATE    AND    LOVE. 

AT  the  same  moment  that  Count  Bernhard  recog- 
nized his  brother,  he  understood  that  the  mar- 
chioness was  initiated  into  their  family  secrets.  He 
believed  he  knew  why  she  had  refused  the  offer  of  his 
hand.  Perhaps  she  had  already  given  her  heart  to 
Paul,  as  a  reward  for  the  knightly  service  he  had  had 
the  happiness  to  show  her.  Very  well;  she  should  also 
share  that  hatred  which  Count  Bernhard  bore  in  his 
heart,  and  which  rapidly  grew,  like  thistles  above  roses, 
far  higher  than  that  transient  emotion  he  had  just 
called  love. 

Coldly  and  haughtily  he  bowed,  and,  without  say- 
ing a  word,  departed. 

The  marchioness  turned  to  Paul,  who,  mute  and 
pale,  had  paused  at  the  door. 

"  I  have  now  paid  a  part  of  my  debt  to  you,"  said 
she,  with  an  ardent  look.  "  Your  brother  a  moment  ago 
asked  my  hand,  and  I  reached  him  this  basket.  He 
now  hates  me  just  as  cordially  as  he  does  you,  and  I 
am  glad  of  it,  for  through  that  I  shall  perhaps  acquire 
some  right  to  regard  you  as  my  friend." 

"How  is  it  possible  to  hate  you?"  said  Paul,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  I  might  be  able  to  answer  you,"  responded  the 
marchioness,  "  that  hatred  never  finds  a  more  open 
door  than  in  a  slighted  love.  But  that  would  be  doing 
your  brother's  feelings  too  much  honor.  Wounded 
vanity,  I  should  say.  Such  are  men.  They  overwhelm 
us  with  flattery,  only  to  chain  us  as  trophies  to  their 
own  triumphal  car.     They   say  to  us,  'You  will  make 


EVENING   STORMS.  133 

me  the  happiest  of  mortals  !'  Possibly  !  But  our 
happiness  or  unhappiness  does  not  trouble  them  in 
the  least.  If  they  were  wise,  they  would  at  least  try 
to  deserve  our  respect.  But  they  imagine  that  we  are 
perfumery  bottles,  and  of  no  use  except  to  scent  their 
own  divine  self-satisfaction.  They  treat  us  like  fans,  to 
be  spread  or  folded  at  pleasure,  and  whose  whole  sig- 
nificance is  a  puff  of  wind.  You  are  still  so  young, 
monsieur,  you  have  not  had  time  to  learn  that,  and  so 
I  can  be  candid  to  you.  But  you  too  will  learn  to  play 
with  the  hearts  of  women,  and  remember  then  what  I 
tell  you  :  we  are  not  all  dolls  of  porcelain.  We  are 
neither  lap-dogs,  to  be  coaxed  with  lumps  of  sugar  to 
sit  up,  nor  kittens,  to  be  enticed  by  a  string  to  follow. 
We  demand,  my  lord,  to  be  treated  like  thinking 
beings  !" 

In  that  moment,  Marchioness  Egmont  was  beauti- 
ful and  proud.  Her  cheeks  burned,  her  eyes  flashed, 
she  forgot  everything  in  the  subject  which  interested 
her.  Paul  could  not  turn  his  eyes  away  from  her.  He 
was  enraptured,  he  was  mute  with  admiration.  Poor 
boy  !  His  heart  had  as  yet  flamed  only  for  his  mother 
and  his  books.  He  had  been  free  as  the  bird  in  the 
forest;  but  now — now  his  wings  were  for  the  first  time 
singed. 

Why  should  he  also  meet,  of  all  others,  this  danger- 
ous woman,  when  he  had  come  to  Stockholm  from  Up- 
sala  to  follow  up  the  one  trace  which  he  believed  he  had 
found  of  his  lost  mother  ?  Why  should  he  check  her 
running  horse  ?  Why  should  he  accept  her  invitation 
for  the  following  day,  and  spend  almost  the  whole  of  that 
day  alone  with  a  siren,  who  was  able  within  ten  minutes  to 
turn  the  head  of  old  inured  statesmen  far  more  than 
that  of  a  young  enthusiast  like  him?  And  why  should 
he  at  last  allow  himself  to  be  tempted  by  her  charm- 
ing French  frankness,  into  answering  with  the  same 
candor,  and  confessing  to  her  everything  that  lay  upon 
his  heart  ?     Useless  questions  !     He  did  not  ask  him- 


134  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

self.  His  thought  stood  still,  and,  like  the  moth,  he 
rushed  blindly  toward  the  light. 

'•  But  I  am  altogether  forgetting  why  I  requested 
your  presence  this  evening,"  continued  the  beautiful 
enchantress,  after  a  little  pause.  "  The  other  half  of 
my  debt  remains  to  be  paid.  Monsieur  de  Bertelskold, 
I  beg  the  honor  of  presenting  you  to  his  majesty  !" 

"  Me  ?"  inquired  Paul,  confused  and  taken  by  sur- 
prise. 

"  And  for  what  other  reason  should  I  have  been  so 
uncourteous  as  to  keep  you  waiting  here  in  my  cabinet  ? 
We  must  make  use  of  the  occasion.  It  is  an  idea  which 
occurred  to  me  yesterday,  after  you  had  gone.  His 
majesty  has  been  gracious  enough  to  promise  to  honor 
my  soiree  with  his  presence,  this  evening  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  it  now  lacks  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Unfortunately,  I  could  not  avoid  inviting  your  brother, 
and  I  wished  to  spare  you  a  meeting,  which,  if  it  had 
occurred  in  the  presence  of  many,  would  have  been 
painful.  You  thus  see  why  I  wrote  you,  begging  you 
to  have  the  goodness  to  enter  by  the  little  staircase  to 
my  inner  room,  and  why  I  was  obliged  to  make  you 
wait  so  long.  But  now,  since  your  brother  has  given 
me  his  displeasure,  and  freed  us  both  from  his  presence, 
nothing  hinders  me  from  begging  you  to  be  welcome 
among  the  rest  of  my  guests.  You  will  there  find  your 
sister,  Baroness  Clairfield.  I  must  only  add  the  request 
that  you  go  down  again,  and  approach  the  drawing- 
room  by  the  large  stairway,  for  I  need  not  tell  you  what 
the  consequence  would  be  if  a  young  man,  who  had 
not  been  presented  to  the  company,  was  unexpectedly 
seen  to  emerge   from  my  inner  apartment " 

And  the  beautiful  marchioness  nodded  as  kindly,  as 
confidentially,  as  though  they  had  been  acquainted  for 
many  years.  Paul  no  longer  had  any  will.  He  prom- 
ised to  obey. 

"Then  ««r^z't?/r.'"  she  whispered,  and  disappeared. 

Meantime  Count  Bernhard,   proud  and  smiling,  as 


EVENING   STORMS.  135 

from  a  triumphal  march,  had  retired  through  the  salon, 
and  was  just  on  the  point  of  disappearing,  when  a  hand 
was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  Colonel  Baron  Sprengt- 
port  stood  beside  him. 

"  One  word,  lord  count !" 

"At  your  service,  my  dear  baron!  " 

"  I  have  just  received  the  sixth  report  this  evening 
from  the  clubs  of  the  Caps.  They  are  beside  them- 
selves with  fury,  among  other  things  over  the  insult  this 
forenoon  offered  to  four  women  of  burgher  rank.  This 
event  could  not  have  occurred  at  a  more  unfortunate 
moment.  It  is  claimed  that  the  whole  affair  was  an 
artful  intrigue,  with  false  missives,  purposely  to  insult  the 
non-titled  estates,  and  this  drop  has  heaped  the  meas- 
ure. I  wonder  if  you  happen  to  know  anything  about 
such  an  intrigue  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  the  story  from  my  valet,  who,  Cath- 
olic as  he  is,  amuses  himself  in  going  to  church  in 
order  to  stare  at  the  young  ladies.  It  is  a  bad  habit 
which  he  brought  with  him  from  Madrid.  An  intrigue, 
you  say  ?  Of  what  use  would  that  have  been  ?  Those 
good  ladies  of  the  bourgeoisie  needed  no  encourage- 
ment.    They  are  pretentious  enough." 

"A  couple  of  those  spurious  anonymous  letters, 
however,  have  been  circulated  at  the  clubs,  and  the 
matter  is  thus,  without  any  doubt,  a  coup  de  main.  Do 
you  want  to  know  my  opinion  about  it  ?" 

"  It  would  interest  me  immensely." 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  one  who  brought  that  about." 

"  That  is  charmant.  And  for  what  reason,  if  I  may 
venture  to  ask  ?" 

"  You  probably  know  that  better  than  I.  You  have 
miscarried  in  everything  you  have  taken  upon  you  to 
accomplish." 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  baron;  I  serve  you  from  pleas- 
ure, but  not  from  duty,  and  so  do  not  like  reprimands 
from  you.  For  the  rest,  I  suppose  you  have  read  Pro- 
vost Larsson's  reply." 


inn  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Y'ou  are  a  turn-coat,  sir  count ! 

"I  beg  to  be  excused " 

"  You  are  a  traitor  to  our  party,  which  for  the  pres- 
ent is  also  the  king's." 

"  That  is  enough,  sir  baron.  If  it  is  your  intention 
to  seek  a  quarrel  you  might  have  chosen  a  more  season- 
able occasion.    But  as  you  please  ;  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  Thank  you.  You  have  luck  in  love,  sir  count  ; 
therefore  you  have  ill-luck  in  play.  The  marchioness 
might  be  inconsolable  if  any  harm  should  happen  you. 
At  least,  so  you  imagine." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Count  Bernhard,  with  his  mocking 
laugh,  which  was  enough  to  irritate  a  stone,  "  I  really 
believe,  baron,  that  you  are  jealous.  I  ought  to  have 
guessed  that,  when  you  fell  upon  me  so  without  rhyme 
or  reason.  If  I  can  serve  you  with  so  little,  I  will  with 
the  greatest  pleasure  cede  my  place  with  our  amiable 
hostess.  As  you  may  have  observed,  I  have  had  no 
reason  to  mourn  over  her  coldness.  But  easy  victories 
have  never  been  to  my  taste.  I  hand  over  my  laurels 
to  the  leader  of  '  Svenska  Botten.'  " 

"  What  ?  Can  it  be  you  are  venturing  to  insult 
Marchioness  Egmont  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  was  yourself  who  regarded  me  as  lucky 
in  love.  And  which  of  us  is  it  that  has  been  uttering 
insult  after  insult  ?" 

"  Very  well.     Fix  the  time  and  place  of  meeting  !" 

"  In  Solna  forest.  My  time  is  somewhat  occupied, 
but  to-morrow,  at  ten  o'clock,  after  I  have  breakfasted, 
I  think  I  might  find  a  half-hour's  leisure  to  dispatch  a 
crazy  baron." 

"  To-morrow  ?  That  will  not  do.  We  must  both 
live  until  after  the  votes  of  the  day.  Suppose  you  say 
day  after  to-morrow  ?" 

"  As  you  please." 

"  The  weapons  ?" 

"  Pistols." 

"  All  revoir,  sir  count !" 


EVENING   STORMS.  137 

"  All  revoir,  sir  baron  !" 

"  His  majesty,  the  king !"  was  at  that  moment 
announced  by  a  valet,  and  the  noise  in  the  drawing- 
room  hushed  as  by  magic.  The  attention  of  all  was 
directed  toward  the  great  entrance. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

KING    GUSTAF    III. 

THE  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the  king  entered. 
He  was  met  by  the  hostess,  who  accompanied 
him  all  the  way  from  the  upper  step  of  the  great  staircase. 
Gustaf  HI  was  at  that  time  twenty-six  years  of  age, 
and  was  still  encircled  by  all  the  charms  of  youth,  which 
never  wholly  deserted  him,  even  when  years  and 
anxieties  had  befogged  his  life.  The  high,  open  fore- 
head, surrounded  by  light  curls,  brushed  back,  slightly 
powdered,  and  terminating  in  an  extremely  careful 
peruke — the  large  blue  eyes,  with  their  extraordi- 
nary luster, — the  delicately  formed  features,  whose 
reputed  irregularity  was  scarcely  observed  by  any 
except  those  who  were  seeking  for  defects, — the  fine, 
smiling  lips,  with  their  expression  of  goodness, — the 
fair,  almost  feminine,  complexion, — the  high-borne  and 
yet  ever  moving  head, — the  peculiar  casting  of  the 
neck,  which  was  so  characteristic, — the  motion  with 
the  handsome  jeweled  hands,  encircled  by  their  frills 
of  lace, — the  animated,  but  always  dignified,  agreeable 
and  expressive  mimicry,  which  accompanied  every  word 
and  gesture, — the  easy,  artless  bearing,  which  never 
for  a  moment,  however,  forgot  itself, — altogether  pre- 
sented a  picture  which  no  one  who  had  once  seen  it 
could  ever  forget.  But  in  it  lay  the  fascination  of 
genius,  which  can  never  be  imitated,  that  undying 
6* 


13S  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

effulgence  which  can  never  be  dimmed  by  trifling  spots, 
and  which  irresistibly  rules  humanity  against  its  will. 

What  has  not  already  been  said  about  the  external 
appearance  of  this  king !  How  eagerly  has  every 
shadow  been  hunted  out  that  could  darken  his  image 
in  the  eyes  of  posterity  !  How  have  his  form,  his 
gestures,  his  words  been  caricatured,  just  as  have  been 
his  historic  personality,  his  character  and  his  human 
worth,  from  the  duplexity  in  his  face  and  the  bows  in 
his  costume,  to  the  duplicity  of  his  conscience  and  the 
ostentation  of  his  government !  What  signifies  all  the 
dirt  that  has  been  scattered  on  his  elegant  silken  jacket, 
to  the  abyss  of  degradation  into  which  it  has  been 
desired  to  push  his  moral  character  !  There  is  scarcely 
any  crime  in  existence  so  black,  any  infamy  so  shocking, 
that  it  has  not  impudently  been  trumped  up  against 
this  king.  All  that  fancy  can  depict  that  is  dark  and 
horrible,  all  that  the  moral  sense  most  deeply  detests, 
all  the  most  despicable  which  has  ever  been  the  object 
of  a  despot's  desires  or  a  lazar's  wretched  lusts, — of 
all  these  has  Gustaf  HI  been  believed  to  be  capable, 
and  if  it  was  not  possible  to  invent  anything  still  more 
terrible  or  repulsive,  the  fault  lay  not  with  those  who 
have  thus  depicted  him,  but  only  in  the  imperfection 
of  the  power  of  human  imagination,  which  was  unable 
to  devise  either  stronger  colors  or  more  infamous 
motives. 

And  }'et  he  now  entered  into  this  handsome  salon, 
utterly  unconscious  of  the  terrible  role  of  a  Nero,  a 
Caligula,  a  Heliogabalus,  which  was  some  day  to  be 
offered  him  in  the  history  of  his  country.  Not  the  least 
trace  of  blood  was  seen  on  his  milk-white  hands.  No 
venom  dripped  from  his  curling  snake -like  locks. 
From  the  pocket  of  his  blue  silken  coat  protruded  no 
hilt  of  any  concealed  dagger.  No  insolent  glance  from 
his  blue  eyes  hinted  of  a  tyrant,  who  in  cold  blood 
murdered  the  honor  of  men  and  the  innocence  of 
women.     No  secret  door  was  opened,  in  order,  at  a 


EVENING  STORMS.  139 

signal  from  him,  to  bury  an  enemy  in  eternal  captivity. 
How  well  he  could  disguise  himself,  that  faithless 
"  comedian  !"  Over  his  whole  being  lay  such  an  illumi- 
nation of  happy  dignity,  that  immediately  upon  his 
entrance  the  wax-lights  seemed  to  burn  more  brightly, 
the  large  mirrors  to  gleam  with  greater  splendor,  the 
flowers  in  the  window  to  exhale  a  sweeter  fragrance, 
and  a  glow  to  spread  out  over  the  whole  salon.  And 
as  all  plants  lean  toward  the  light,  so  the  eyes  of  all 
present  followed  his  easy,  graceful  walk  through  their 
respectfully  yielding  ranks. 

He  dispensed  a  greeting  in  every  direction  with  a 
bow.  His  least  look  was  eagerly  caught,  and  every 
word  from  his  lips  was  listened  to  like  a  sweet  sound. 
All  felt  as  though  spell-bound,  and  yet  free,  sorrowless 
and  delighted. 

Was  this  the  despot  of  whom  we  read  in  so  many 
partisan  books  ?  "  No,"  answers  the  echo  of  the  times, 
"  not  yet.  He  was  only  going  to  become  that,  before 
long."  Did  he  become  that  ?  No  one,  in  April,  1772, 
knew  a  word  of  reply. 

The  salutation  on  both  sides  was  conformable  to 
the  rigid  models  of  etiquette  and  the  dancing-school. 
There  was  much  ceremony  in  familiarity  itself.  During 
the  time  of  liberty,  the  king's  dignity  was  to  make  up 
for  everything  lacking  in  the  W\\^'s> poiver.  His  acting 
chamberlain  accompanied  him  even  in  the  private 
evening  circle,  and  two  pages  at  the  door  awaited  their 
royal  master's  commands. 

"  I  come  late,  but  do  not  let  that  disturb  you  in 
your  govermental  cares,  my  dear  marchioness,"  said 
the  king,  in  that  complaisant  and  merry  tone  with 
which  he  usually  addressed  ladies  of  the  higher  society. 
"  You  have  your  whole  court  gathered  around  you, 
I  see.  Truly  you  are  to  be  envicu.  You  reign  supreme, 
and  yet  you  have  not  a  single  rebel  in  your  realm.  But 
what  news  from  Paris  ?  I  hope  your  charming  aunt  is 
well  ?" 


Hi  I  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  As  well  as  one  can  be,  two  hundred  lieus  from 
your  majest)-,'  replied  the  marchioness,  in  the  same 
tone.  "  My  aunt  is  not  so  old  yet  as  to  lose  her 
memory,  and  she  thinks  with  regret  of  last  winter,  when 
she  had  the  honor  of  quarreling  with  your  majesty." 

"  Neither  can  I  ever  forget  our  skirmishes," 
responded  the  king,  greatly  animated  by  the  agreeable 
memory.  "  Next  to  Countess  de  la  March,  I  had  no 
more  formidable  enemy  in  Paris  than  Countess 
Egmont,  and,  I  may  add,  no  more  faithful  friend. 
Those  charming  ladies,  you  may  believe,  charged  hard 
upon  me  for  what  the}'  called  my  absolute  sympathies. 
People  are  nowhere  so  free-minded,  you  know,  as  in 
Paris.  People  are  always  dreaming  about  what  they 
do  not  themselves  possess.  A  more  decided  republican 
than  your  aunt,  I  have  never  seen.  It  was  in  her  box 
at  the  theater  that  I  received  the  sad  news  from  Stock- 
holm, and  how  do  you  suppose  she  consoled  me  ?  She 
cautioned  me  against  an  absolute  monarchy." 

"  Pardon  her,  your  majesty  !  She  ought  to  spend 
this  winter  in  Stockholm  in  order  to  correct  her 
opinion." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  But  yet  Paris  is  always  Paris. 
I  will  present  you  a  most  charming  pair  of  samples, 
which  I  just  received  by  post.  Do  you  remember  the 
young  Vestris,  the  dancer  with  the  exquisite  legs,  son 
of  his  father  ?  He  writes  in  real  earnest,  and  proposes 
to  me  to  engage  a  ballet-corps  in  Stockholm.  And 
pretty  little  Morelli  (daughter  to  the  late  king's 
premier-danseiise^  who  helped  dedicate  '  China,'  and  was 
afterward  poisoned  by  her  rival  in  Bologna),  what  do 
you  think  she  has  in  mind  ?  She  wants,  partout,  to 
come  here  and  dance  at  the  coronation  !  " 

"  It  would  do  no  harm  if  your  majesty  engaged  her 
as  teacher  of  tne  cerpsicnorean  art,  for  instance  for 
the  house  of  burghers  .  .  .  .  But  will  your  majesty  have 
the  goodness  to  be  seated?  We  have  a  little,  very 
unpretentious /(/jT  de printemps.     It  is  an  old  nouveaute. 


EVENING   STORMS.  141 

which  is  said  to  have  been  danced  in  Stockholm  more 
than  thirty  years  ago,  at  Count  Tessin's." 

"  At  Count  Tessin's  ?  Ah  !  I  remember  having 
heard  it  spoken  of.  It  was  then  that  the  late  queen 
fainted,  when  she  recognized  Lady  Taube.  It  was 
also  then  that  the  part  of  Spring  was  danced  by  a 
pretty  little  parvenu,  a  girl  from  the  bourgeoisie,  who  is 
said  to  have  juggled  away  Lady  Stenbock's  costume. 
She  was  afterward  married  to  a  Count  Bertelskold, 
father  to  our  Spanish  chevalier.  Count  Tessin  once 
related  it  to  me,  at  the  time  when  he  and  I  were  inti- 
mate friends." 

"  Ah  !  "    exclaimed  the   marchioness,  visibly  sur- 
prised, "  I  was  just  intending  to  beg  the  favor  of  pre-' 
senting  before  your  majesty  a  young  person  who,  if  I 
mistake  not,  is  a  son  of  the  same   Count  Bertelskold, 
in  his  later  marriage  with  the  person  mentioned." 

"  Ah  me  !  my  dear  marchioness,  when  a  lady  at 
your  age  interests  herself  in  a  young  man,  it  may  be 
wagered  that  she  has  extremely  urgent  reasons  for  it. 
I  hope  he  is  ugly,  one-eyed,  hump-backed,  or  at  least 
a  magister,  for  then  the  rest  of  your  adorers  can  be 
calm." 

"  Your  majesty  will  perhaps  be  gracious  enough  to 
judge  for  yourself.  Here  he  is, — Count  Paul  Bertel- 
skold." 

The  king  gazed  with  pleasure  at  the  slender,  hand- 
some young  man,  who,  in  his  simple  black  costume, 
with  the  timid  flush  on  his  cheeks,  and  the  dark,  sad, 
dreaming  eyes,  resembled  rather  the  hero  of  a  tragedy 
than  the  gallant  and  strutting  officer  of  the  guards 
whom  his  majesty  had  probably  expected. 

"  Madame,"  said  Gustaf  III,  smiling,  and  with  his 
inimitable  grace,  "  I  pity  your  adorers  !  " 

"I  venture  to  believe  that  your  majesty,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  is  mistaken,"  replied  the  beautiful 
marchioness,  concealing  with   her  fan  a  treacherous 


14 '2  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

witness  on  her  cheeks,  which  had  not  yet  forgotten  the 
art  of  blushing. 

The  king  continued  with  pleasure  to  look  at  the 
young  man.  The  beautiful  in  life  attracted  him 
wherever  he  met  it,  and  it  has  been  observed  that  all 
the  favorites  of  Gustaf  III  were  handsome  men. 

"  Have  you  any  wish  that  lies  in  my  power  to 
fulfill !  "  he  asked  of  Paul.  "  I  know  your  father  and 
your  brother.  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  you 
occupying  a  place  at  court." 

"I  am  grateful  to  your  majesty,"  replied  Paul. 
"  What  I  at  present  most  earnestly  wish,  it  is  not  in 
your  majesty's  power  to  fulfill." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  To  find  my  mother  again." 

"  Who  knows  ?  You  must  tell  me  about  that. 
After  a  fashion,  I  also  know  your  mother," 


CHAPTER  ^XXVI. 

SIGNS    AND    WARNINGS. 

THE  third  day  after  the  scenes  described  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  Paul  Bertelskold,  early  in 
the  morning,  was  sitting  in  his  humble  room  on  Little 
New  Street  in  Stockholm,  when  a  letter  was  brought 
him  which  had  arrived  from  Upsala  by  post  the  even- 
ing before.  He  recognized  his  father's  handwriting, 
broke  the  seal,  and  with  mingled  feelings  read  the 
letter.  It  contained,  together  with  information  about 
the  monotonous  life  at  Falkby,  a  multitude  of  fatherly 
counsels,  among  which  was  that  Paul  ought  without 
delay  to  become  reconciled  with  his  brother  Bernhard, 


EVENING   STORMS.  143 

as  the  enmity  of  the  brothers  would  otherwise  lay  their 
father  in  the  grave. 

"  And  not  a  word  about  my  mother  !  "  sadly  sighed 
the  young  man. 

But  he  deceived  himself.  On  the  third  page  of  the 
letter,  there  was  a  postscript  which  he  had  not  at  first 
observed. 

"  Dear  son,"  wrote  the  count,  with  an  embarrass- 
ment and  an  emotion  which  could  easily  be  read  in 
•every  line,  "  I  ought  not  to  leave  you  in  ignorance  that 
we  have  had  a  letter  from  the  countess,  your  mother. 
It  came  by  post  from  Stockholm,  and  stated  that  her 
health  was  good,  and  that  she  every  day  included  us 
all  in  her  prayers.  She  writes  that  we  must  not  try  to 
search  out  her  place  of  abode,  that  she  is  living  with 
good  people,  and  lacks  nothing  except  the  blessedness 
of  once  more  in  life  embracing  us,  all  of  which  she  lays 
in  the  hand  of  God  the  Almighty.  She  says  she  often 
receives  intelligence  about  us,  although  I  truly  do  not 
comprehend  how  that  is  possible.  For  you,  she  seems 
to  be  filled  with  many  anxieties,  but  expresses  her 
satisfaction  over  Lady  Sjoblad's  method  with  Vera's 
education,  and  on  that  point  gives  precise  directions. 
Lady  Sjoblad  is  also  a  very  amiable  and  intelligent 
person,  upon  whom  perfect  dependence  can  be  placed. 
Farewell,  dear  son." 

There  was  something  at  the  conclusion  which  Paul 
did  not  exactly  like.  But  what  signified  that  compared 
with  the  great  and  to  him  exciting  news  of  a  letter 
from  his  mother  !  So  she  still  lived  !  This  certainty 
alone  could  not  be  repaid  with  a  mountain  of  gold. 
She  lived,  submissive  to  her  fate;  her  memory  was 
active,  she  thought  of  her  children  !  O,  where, 
where  then  did  she  live,  and  why  did  she  not  come 
to  wipe  away  the  tears  of  her  son,  the  only  one  on 
earth  who  was  ready  for  her  sake  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing ? 


144  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

A  little  apostillt\  in  childlike  French,  from  \'era, 
accompanied  the  letter: 

"  Sachez,  mon  tres  cher  fr^re,  que  notre  mere  nous  a  ecrit  et 
qu'elle  se  portebien,  quoiqu'elle  pleure  tous  les  jours  notre  absence 
et  prie  le  bon  Dieu  de  nous  garder.  C'est  que  j 'avals  parfaitement 
raison.n'estce  pas, qu'elle  n'etaitnullementpartie, qu'elle  resteencore 
pres  de  nous,  et  qu'elle  reviendra  un  jour  nous  embrasser,  si  nous 
sommcs  tr6s  sages  et  tres  obeissants.  ()uant  a  moi,  je  feral  mon 
possible,  et  vous  le  ferez  mille  foi  mieux  que  moi.  Sachez  aussi, 
que  mon  pere  m'a  donne,  le  jour  de  ma  naissance,  un  autre  petit 
agneau,  qui  se  nomme  Bibi,  au  lieu  de  mon  pauvre  Bijou,  qu'on 
m'a  si  affreusement  tue,  et  il  est  tout  blanc,  c'est  a  dire  que  la  tete 
seule  est  toute  noire  commc  le  pot  de  Tall  Karin,  vous  vous  en 
souvenez.  Adieu,  mon  plus  cher  ami,  je  vous  baise  soixante  dix 
fois  votres  moustaches,  si  vous  en  avez  quelques  uns,  et  je  suis 
votre  tres  petite,  tres  sotte  et  tres  obeissante  soeur 

Vera  Bertelskold." 

Paul  kissed  the  letter.  "  We  two  shall  cling 
together  in  life  and  death,"  said  he  silently  to  himself. 
But  how  was  he  to  profit  by  the  hints  these  letters  con- 
tained about  his  mother's  place  of  abode  ? 

Some  one  touched  the  latch  of  his  door.  It  opened, 
and  in  stepped  one  of  those  ragged  beggar  children 
who  in  great  numbers  ran  about  the  streets  of  Stock- 
holm. It  was  a  girl  of  the  same  age  as  Vera,  and 
that  resemblance  touched  Paul's  easily  moved  heart.  Be- 
fore the  girl  had  yet  piped  forth  the  ordinary  whining  en- 
treaty for  a  farthing,  Paul  had  reached  her  a  silver  coin, 
which,  for  his  purse,  was  a  not  insignificant  offering. 

The  girl  courtesied,  and  silently  reached  him  a 
piece  of  coarse  paper  He  unfolded  it,  and  to  his  fur- 
ther astonishment  read  : 

"Hasten  immediately  to  Solna  forest.  Your  broth- 
er's life  is  in  danger." 

There  was  no  signature,  and  the  hand-writing  was 
unfamiliar. 

"  Who  sent  you  ?"  inquired  Paul. 

The  girl  indicated  with  a  gesture  that  she  could 
not  answer.     She  was  deaf  and  dumb. 

"If  that  is  the   case,  you  will   remain    here  in  my 


EVENING   STORMS.  145 

room  till  I  come  back,"  Paul  motioned,  and  immedi- 
ately took  his  hat  to  hasten  to  Solna.  Let  the  sum- 
mons come  from  whomsoever  it  might,  he  must  obey  it 
for  what  he  regarded  two  strong  reasons  :  it  con- 
cerned his  brother,  and  that  brother  was  his  bitterest 
enemy. 

But  in  the  door  he  met  Marchioness  Egmont's 
French  waiting-maid,  little  Babette,  of  whom  rumor 
said  that  she  knew  more  about  her  mistress's  secrets 
than  a  waiting-maid  really  ought  to  know.  She 
courageously  placed  herself  in  the  way  of  the  swiftly 
departing  Paul. 

"One  word,  monsieur  !"  said  she,  with  the  abrupt 
assurance  of  a  favorite  who  does  not  allow  herself  to 
be  deterred  by  any  hindrances. 

Paul  stopped. 

"  Madame  begs  that  monsieur  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  call  on  her  immediately.  Her  carriage  is 
waiting  at  the  door." 

"  I  will  come  in  an  hour  or  two.  For  the  moment 
it  is  impossible,"  replied  Paul. 

"  Pardon  me,  madame  begs  me  to  add  that  monsieur 
ought  not  to  lose  a  moment.  It  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance." 

"  Have  you  any  idea,  Babette,  what  it  is  about  ?" 
and  a  gold  coin,  his  only  one,  was  slipped  into  the  hand 
of  the  waiting-maid. 

"I  do  not  know.  Probably  some  tapestry  pattern, 
which  madame  wishes  to  consult  you  about,"  replied 
Babette,  with  mischievous  mien. 

Paul  hesitated.  He  looked  around  after  the  deaf 
and  dumb  girl,  but  she  had  disappeared.  For  the 
second  time  he  took  a  hat  and  hurried  out. 

"What  is  monsieur  going  to  do  with  two  hats ?" 
inquired  the  saucy  messenger. 

In  a  few  seconds,  Paul  was  sitting  in  the  carriage, 
which  flew  toward  Norrbro,  and  then  toward  Drott- 
7  K 


14G  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

ning  street,  in  a  way  that  made  the  sparks  fly  from  the 
paving  stones. 

"  Wait  here,"  said  Paul  to  the  coachman,  when  they 
stopped  at  the  house. 

The  clock  had  just  struck  nine.  That  was  an  unus- 
ual hour  at  the  house  of  Marchioness  Egmont,  who 
never  received  any  calls  before  twelve  o'clock  at  the 
earliest.  Nevertheless,  she  had  already  made  her 
toilet,  which,  with  the  coiffure  of  that  period,  must 
have  occupied  at  least  an  hour.  She  wore  an  easy  but 
careful  morning  costume.  Though  she  looked  unusu- 
ally serious,  she  had  never  been  more  charming. 

When  Paul  entered,  she  was  sitting  at  her  choco- 
late, and  seemed  to  have  waited  for  him  with  impa- 
tience. 

"  Pardon  my  importunity,"  said  she.  "  It  is  not 
for  my  sake  I  have  troubled  you  to  come  hither,  but 
for  your  own.  Have  the  goodness  to  be  seated.  I 
must  ask  you  a  saucy  question.  Have  you  any  enemy 
here  in  Stockholm  ?" 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Paul. 

"  Then  it  is  as  1  surmised.  It  can  be  no  other  than 
your  brother." 

"  x\las,  madame,  I  must  confess  to  you  that  I  am  on 
nettles.  I  have  just  received  an  anonymous  communi- 
cation to  hurry  immediately  to  Solna  forest,  as  my 
brother's  life  is  in  danger?" 

"  What  do  you  say?  Anonymous  ?  Let  me  see.  It 
cannot  be  anything  but  a  mesh  of  that  infamous  net 
of  intrigues  with  which  you  seem  beginning  to  be 
ensnared.  I  will  tell  you  why  I  requested  you  to  call. 
As  you  remember,  his  majesty  was  very  gracious  yes- 
terday. After  you  had  gone,  he  was  pleased  to  ask  me 
several  questions  about  you,  and  I — I  depicted  you  not 
at  all  as  a  wild  beast,  as  you  can  understand.  'What 
can  I  do  for  that  young  man  ?'  asked  his  majesty  at 
last.  'Sire,'  said  I,  'place  him  where  he  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  show  for  what  he  is  fit.     Give  him  some 


EVENING   STORMS.  147 

little  position  in  proximity  to  your  majesty's  person.' 
'  Mais  si,'  said  the  king,  with  his  sly  smile,  *  do  you 
think  he  would  be  flattered  by  the  position  of  gentle- 
man of  the  bed-chamber  ?'  '  That,  I  venture  to  doubt,' 
I  replied,  '  but  a  little  office  of  private  secretary  I 
believe  would  please  him  better,  though  it  only  might 
be  to  write  addresses  on  your  majesty's  correspond- 
ence.' 'He  shall  have  it,'  said  the  king, 'and  on  your 
responsibility,  madame,  for  the  only  vacant  place  I 
have  is  for  just  my  secret  correspondence.  Is  he  faith- 
ful and  discreet  ?'  '  As  the  grave,'  I  replied.  '  That 
is  well,'  said  the  king." 

"  But,  madame     .     .     .     ." 

"  No  buts.  You  ought  to  know,  my  dear  Bertel- 
sKold,  that  from  such  a  place  the  way  is  always  open  to 
any  other  whatever.  In  a  few  months,  nothing  will 
prevent  your  asking  a  commission  as  an  officer  in  the 
guards,  if  that  will  suit  you  better.  I  thought  of  that 
immediately,  but  it  seemed  to  me  better  for  you  to  have 
time  for  reflection." 

"  How  am  I  to  thank  you  for  so  much  kind- 
ness ? " 

"  By  listening  to  what  I  tell  you,  and  not  looking  as 
though  your  thoughts  were  in  the  moon.  In  short, 
you  were  quite  sure  of  the  place,  when,  at  a  ball  last 
night  at  the  queen  dowager's,  I  heard  that  some  one 
had  been  slandering  you  to  his  majesty.  The  king 
had  been  told  that  you  had  been  expelled  from  a  uni- 
versity in  Livonia  or  Finland,  I  do  not  remember 
where,  for  some  infamous  audacity;  in  a  word,  that 
you  were  an  extremely  indiscreet  and  unreliable  per- 
son. Unfortunately,  his  majesty  was  no  longer  at  the 
ball,  and  at  noon  to-day  he  is  going  out  to  Ekolssund. 
So  you  must  hurry  to  the  palace,  and  request  private 
audience;  I  have  arranged  so  that  you  will  have  it. 
Vcu  will  frankly  state  the  reason  of  your  suspension, 
which  cannot  have  had  any  ignoble  cause.  His  ma- 
jesty is  prepared,  he  will  hear  you  kindly,  and  give  you 


148  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

that  confidential  position  which  will  attach  you  daily  to 
his  person,  and  your  fortune  is  made." 

"  But  I  cannot  go  to  the  palace  at  this  moment. 
You  forget  my  brother     .     .     . 

"Ah,  your  brother!  And  by  ivhat^x^s  he  made  him- 
self worthy  of  being  remembered?" 


CHAPTER  XXVIl. 

INTRIGUES    AND    SPIDER-WEBS, 

"TF  you  were  in  my  place,"  said  Paul,  "  I  am  sure 
j[  your  good  heart  would  immediately  tell  you  what 
you  ought  to  do.  My  father  is  suffering  from  our 
unhappy  disagreement,  and  commands  me  to  seek 
reconciliation.  My  mother, — yes,  why  should  I  con- 
ceal my  suspicion  from  you  ?  That  anonymous  sum- 
mons perhaps  comes  from  my  mother." 

"And  you  believe  that  your  mother  would  beg  you 
to  save  your  mortal  enemy!  " 

"In  that  very  particular,  I  recognize  her,  madame. 
A  letter  from  my  mother  has  arrived  at  Falkby.  Either 
she  is  here,  or  she  has  a  confidant  here." 

"No,  my  dear  count,"  responded  the  marchioness, 
after  some  reflection,  "  you  are  too  inexperienced  in  the 
card-tricks  of  intrigue.  The  person  who  wrote  the 
summons  probably  knows  very  well  that  at  noon  his 
majesty  is  going  to  leave  town,  that  you  will  not  have 
the  opportunity  afterward  to  justify  yourself,  and  that 
the  enviable  position  you  ought  to  fill  will  meantime  be 
given  away  to  another.  To  get  to  Solna  and  back, 
where  good  care  will  be  taken  to  detain  you,  you 
will  require  at  least  two  hours.  When  you  get  back, 
the  king  will  be  invisible,  and  your  fortune  lost.     You 


EVENING  STORMS.  149 

there  see  the  reason  why  that  insidious  note  was  sent 
you." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  use  your  carriage  and 
horses?" 

"  With  pleasure.  But  I  assure  you  I  shall  be  seri- 
ously angry  with  you,  if  you  are  stubborn  enough  to 
slight  my  good  counsel.  Do  not  go  to  Solna,  go 
directly  to  the  palace,  and  after  you  have  unmasked  the 
base  slander  that  has  been  laid  like  a  mine  of  powder 
beneath  your  fortune,  you  can  of  course  go  where  you 
please." 

And  the  marchioness  took  his  hand,  with  a  look  so 
pleading,  so  irresistible,  that  it  might  have  made  an 
apostate  of  a  cardinal. 

"  No,  madame,"  said  Paul.  "Add  to  your  kindness 
by  pardoning  my  disobedience.  I  will  try  to  make 
amends  for  it  with  my  whole  life." 

"  Bertelskold,  I  conjure  yon,  for  my  sake,  if  not  for 
your  own, — do  not  go  to  Solna!    Go  to  the  palace! " 

"  Have  you  any  other  command?" 

"  What?     You  will  go?" 

"  If  I  tarry  longer,  I  shall  be  unfaithful  to  my  duty. 
You,  madame,  who  so  well  know  how  to  appreciate  a 
woman's  heart — learn  also  to  appreciate  a  man's  ! '' 

Paul  rushed  out. 

Pale  with  anger.  Marchioness  Egmont  arose,  and 
rung  violently  for  her  waiting-maid.  "  Babette,"  said 
she,  "  when  the  count  returns,  he  will  not  be  received." 

"  But  if  he  ascends  the  little  staircase  !  "  asked  the 
girl,  pursing  her  mouth. 

"  No,  no,  no,  I  say.  He  will  not  be  received  under 
any  pretext.     He  is  an  ungrateful     .     .     .     ." 

"  But  if  he  repents? — If  he  shoots  himself? — He  is 
capable  of  anything, — and  he  is  handsome  when  he  is 
angry,"  rejoined  Babette,  who  was  by  no  means  indif- 
ferent to  a  handsome  young  man  and  a  pretty  gold 
coin. 

"  Go!     I  want  to  be  alone  !  " 


150  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Babette  went.  "  The  wind  blows  from  that  point 
now,"  muttered  she  to  herself.  "  Well,  a  little  squab- 
ble sometimes  may  give  variety.  But  may  I  become  a 
peasant-girl  if  I  do  not  receive  counter  orders  within 
an  hour.     .     .     .     So  soon?     Indeed." 

The  bell  sounded. 

"  Babette,  did  the  count  take  my  carriage?" 

"Yes,  your  grace,  he  was  really  impudent  enough." 

"  It  was  I  who  offered  it  to  him.  He  will  be  sure  to 
come  back,  but  you  can  tell  him  I  have  just  ridden 
out." 

"And  if  he  comes  this  evening  ?  " 

"Then  I  am  not  at  home." 

"  But  if  he  comes  to-morrow?  " 

"You  are  intolerable.    To-morrow  we  shall  see." 

Babette  departed,  but  she  had  not  closed  the  door 
before  the  bell  rung  for  the  third  time. 

"  I  shall  be  at  home  this  evening,  but  you  can  tell 
him  that  I  am  very  angry." 

"  Shall  I  turn  him  away  if  he  comes  in  the  fore- 
noon ? " 

"What  a  thorn  you  are!  Well,  he  may  come, — 
but  by  the  main  staircase,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  grace." 

"  Wait,  I  will  not  receive  any  one  else  to-day.  I 
have  a  headache." 

"  I  think  your  grace  never  looked  so  blooming." 

"Am  I  to  be  obeyed  ?  " 

"  Your  grace's  command  shall  be  followed,  to  a 
dot." 

"  Go  away." 

Babette  disappeared  "Well,  I  knew  how  it  would 
be  from  the  very  first,"  muttered  the  over-indulged 
servant,  with  a  toss  of  her  snub  nose.  "  It  was  sure 
to  be  sunshine  after  a  thunder-storm." 

Meanwhile  we  must  for  awhile  leave  Marchioness 
Egmont  alone  with  her  lovely  caprices,  to  enter  into 
another   aristocratic  room  on  Drottning  Street,  where 


EVENING  STORMS.  151 

Count  Bernhard  Bertelskold,  the  same  morning,  sat 
occupied  with  some  letters,  which  seemed  to  possess 
particular  interest  for  him. 

"  Affair  number  one"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  sorted 
the  letters.  "  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  natural, 
indeed  the  more  necessary,  I  find  it  for  my  father  to 
marry  Lady  Sjoblad.  It  is  the  only  means  forever  to 
cut  off  madame's  speculations.  She  regards  herself  as 
indispensable, — she  is  trying  to  make  us  beg  her  on 
our  knees  to  come  back.  Of  course  she  expects  then 
to  be  recalled  with  an  eclat  which  will  give  her  perfect 
revenge.  But  she  will  be  mistaken.  We  shall  look 
out  that  the  rupture  becomes  irreparable,  and  that  can 
best  be  brought  about  by  an  advertisement  in  the  news- 
papers It  is  not  exactly  agreeable  to  have  the  news- 
papers illustrated  with  our  name,  but  what  will  a  man 
not  do  for  his  father's  happiness  !  My  filial  sacrifice 
will  be  admired.  It  would  be  difficult,  perhaps  impos- 
sible, to  prevail  on  mon  cher  papa  to  take  so  decisive  a 
step.  I  know  him, — nothing  is  needed  but  for  Vera  to 
whine,  or  Paul  to  declaim,  and  he  will  pay  out  the 
cable.  It  is  therefore  best  that  I  take  the  decisive 
step.  He  will  lament,  that  is  plain,  but  he  will  submit 
to  what  can  no  longer  be  changed.  Consequently  an  an- 
nouncement of  the  following  purport  should  be  made  : 

'  Whereas  my  wife,  Esther,  ne'e  Larsson,'  (it  ought 
to  read  'my  wife') 'in  an  unknown  manner  has  deserted 
my  dwelling,  and  it  cannot  be  found  out  what  place 
she  at  present  frequents' (' frequents ' — that  is  rich!) 
'  therefore  be  it  made  known  by  these  presents,  to  her, 
Esther  Larsson,  that  she  is  legally  summoned  within  a 
year  and  a  night  to  appear  and  live  again  with  me  ; 
and  if  it  should  fall  out  otherwise,'  (it  would  '  fall 
out  otherwise'  if  she  should  appear  on  requisition,)' if 
it  fall  out  otherwise,  I  shall  enter  into  another  mar- 
riage. Falkby,  April  6th,  1772.  Charles  Victor  Ber- 
tel.'  ....  the  pen  will  not  give    ink  !   .  .  .  .     '  Bar- 


152  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

telkold  ;  count,  major-general,  and  knight  of  the 
Royal  Order  of  the  Sword,  together  with  the  Royal 
Danish  Order  of  Dannebrog,  and  the  first  class  of  the 
Imperial  Russian  Order  of   St.  Anne.' 

"  So  there,  the  matter  is  in  order.  Avis  an  lecteur. 
Like  every  good  comedy,  the  end  of  the  one  act  con- 
tains the  scheme  of  the  next.     Jose  !  " 

"  SeuoA  " 

"  This  paper  you  will  take  to  the  Gazette  printing- 
house  to-day,  with  the  order  that  it  be  inserted  in  to- 
morrow's issue." 

"  It  shall  be  done.  Senior." 

^'Affair  number  tjvo,"  resumed  Count  Bernhard. 
"  For  fear  that  my  lord  brother  should  succeed  in  in- 
sinuating himself  with  his  majesty,  in  spite  of  all  that 
I  have  already  caused  to  transpire  about  his  noble  per- 
son, it  will  be  necessary,  through  Count  Scheffer,  to 
have  his  majesty  betimes  get  a  copy  of  to-morrow's  an- 
nouncement. Our  gracious  king,  with  all  his  coquetry 
for  the  untitled  estates,  has  a  very  delicate  nose  for 
aristocratic  blue-blood,  and  a  still  greater  horror  for 
public  scandal.  Merci,  mon  genie !  That  announce- 
ment is  like  the  knight  on  a  chess-board, — it  kicks 
away,  but  it  kicks  toward  ever}'  point,  and  jumps,  if . 
need  be,  over  the  king  himself  ....  Jose!  " 

"  Sefior!  " 

"  This  note  you  will  take  to  Councilor  Count 
Scheffer." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  Sefior." 

"  Affair  number  three.  It  is  your  turn  now,  my 
gracious  marchioness  !  I  have  a  sketch  here,  which  I 
hope  will  be  a  pleasant  surprise  to  you.     Let  us  hear  : 

'  How  long  shall  noble  Swedes  allow  foreign  tar- 
tuffes ' — (no,  that  will  not  do  ;  the  speech  must  con- 
form to  the  public,  and  be  as  uncivil  as  a  butcher's 
dog.)  '  How  long  shall  noble  Swedes  let  foreign  herd- 
dogs,  human  wolves,  and  lewd  trash,  who  fatten  by 
the  sweat  and  blood  of  honest  people,  bungle  with  the 


EVENING  STORMS.  153 

welfare  of  the  country  ?     An  ill-famed  house  on  D 

street  is  very  well  known,  where  every  night  infamy 
spreads  its  peacock-tail  in  the  sunshine  of  royal  favor, 
and  vice  revels  in  the  bloody  tears  of  weeping  virtue.' 
(Fine  !  That  will  make  the  rabble  sob.)  'A  certain 
aristocratic  queen  of  spades  is  also  known,  who  calls 

herself  Mar ss   E 1,  and  who  tells  to  whoever 

will  hear  it  that  all  Swedes  are  more  stupid  than  beef- 
cattle,  whereupon  she  alleges,  as  indisputable  proof, 
that  she  has  now  for  more  than  a  half-year,  so  to  speak, 
kicked  them,  like  beasts,  down  stairs  every  day.  It  is 
also  known  that  the  aforesaid  queen  of  spades,  who 
has  a  good  eye  for  the  king  of  diamonds,  had  been, 
before  she  came  here,  princess  in  a  house  of  correction, 
and  was  prevailed  upon  to  honor  Sweden  with  her 
presence,  on  the  condition  that  she  should  receive  here 
a  pension  of  thirty  thousand  '  (that  is  too  little, )'fifty 
thousand  rix-dollars,  in  order  to  teach  us,  stupid  cart- 
horses, to  make  cabriolets  after  the  latest  fashion.  She 
has  at  present  twenty  four'  (let  that  be   twenty-one) 

*  declared  gallants,  who  on  her  account  manipulate  the 
house  of  lords,  to  make  utter  fools  of  the  untitled 
estates,  after  which  the  aforesaid  queen  of  spades  is  to 
be  elevated  to  the  ace  of  trumps,  and  govern  the  king- 
dom like  a  famished  fox.  How  long  shall  noble  Swedes, 
etc.,  etc' — We  must  add  a  fine  exhortation  at  the  close, 
that  the  people  themselves  ought  to  take  revenge  for 
virtue  and  justice,  which  are  so  basely  trampled  under 
foot.     Jose  ! " 

"  Sefior  !  " 

"  This  paper  you  will  carry  to  the  editor  of  the 

*  Government  Fiscal,'  and  tell  him  for  me  that  he  is  to 
insert  it,  as  usual,  strictly  anonymous,  and  as  soon  as 
possible.  Tell  him  that  the  pay  stipulated  will  be  dou- 
bled for  this  time." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  Seuor  !  " 


154  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

AFFAIR  NUMBER  FIVE. 

"  A FFAIR  number  four,"  continued  Count  Bern- 
•^^  hard.  "  The  council  is  formally  deposed,  thanks 
to  the  little  rub  I  knew  how  at  the  right  moment 
to  give  plebeian  pride.  The  self-styled  fatherland 
is  saved,  and  self-styled  liberty  can  be  satisfied.  In 
this  turbid  water  more  than  one  fisherman  will  throw 
out  his  net.  The  most  sagacious  and  daring  are 
going  to  catch  the  largest  fishes.  I  know  one  who 
is  sagacious  but  not  daring,  and  that  is  our  gracious 
sovereign,  with  his  theatrical  gestures.  I  know  many 
who  are  daring  but  not  sagacious,  and  among  them 
our  knightly  leader  of  '  Svenska  Botten.'  Ah  !  I  had 
very  nearly  forgotten;  we  have  a  bone  to  pick  at  Solna, 
and  it  is  already  nine  o'clock.  So  that  is  affair  ?mm- 
ber  five.  By  eleven  o'clock  all  ought  to  be  concluded, 
and  then  there  will  either  be  one  fool  less  in  the  world, 
or  two  fools  more,  who  will  go  and  dine  after  they  have 
taken  exercise.  The  whole  foolery  is  only  a  paren- 
thetical portion  of  number  four.  As  to  that  affair,  I 
know  one  who  is  sagacious  and  bold  at  once,  so  victory 
ought  not  to  be  doubtful.  The  seat  in  the  council, 
^a  nest  plus  mon  grade.  But  in  order  not  to  leave  any 
means  unused,  there  still  remains  affair  ?iumber  six." 

Count  Bernhard  hunted  up  some  rather  old  and 
yellowed  notes,  and  compared  them  with  a  newly 
arrived  letter.  An  almost  gloomy  expression  alter- 
nated at  intervals  with  the  usual  sarcastic  smile  which 
now  almost  continually  dwelt  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  truly  do  not  know,"  he  continued,  "  whether  my 
father's  uncle,  Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  was  so  re- 


EVENING  STORMS.  155 

fined  a  statesman  as  he  himself  seems  to  pretend  in 
these  his  secret  memoirs,  but  what  I  with  certainty 
fancy  I  find  is  that  he  was  a  dupe  to  his  superstition 
and  his  Hvely  imagination.  With  what  ridiculous 
credulity  he  speaks  about  that  ring,  which  he  regarded 
as  an  unfailing  talisman  for  all  earthly  power,  honor, 
and  fortune  !  And  has  he  not  taken  the  trouble  to 
write  out  a  legend  about  all  its  miracles,  which  might 
do  credit  to  a  Capuchin  monk's  power  of  invention  ! 
The  notes  close  with  a  dim  intimation  of  hopes  so  pre- 
sumptuous that  my  little  ministerial  plans,  in  compari- 
son with  them,  are  a  school-boy's  card  house.  But 
here  is  a  note  in  the  margin  by  another  hand.  '  Lost 
by  a  false  oath  to  the  widow  Flinta.'  Flinta?  Proba- 
bly the  same  flint  that  made  my  step-mother  strike 
fire.  It  was  well  that  I  remembered  that  old  witch  .... 
"  I  cannot  deny,  however,"  resumed  the  count,  after 
some  reflection,  "that  my  dear  grand-uncle's  legend 
has  awakened  in  me  a  certain  cufiosity.  It  would, /ar 
curiosite,  be  really  amusant  to  own  such  a  little  piece  of 
monopoly  in  that  commodity  which  is  most  current  in 
the  market.  What  a  ridiculous  idea  of  me  to  have  the 
recent  fate  of  that  old  bit  of  copper  searched  into  ! 
Our  friend  Ljung  seems  to  have  been  the  last-known 
possessor.  This  is  what  he  writes  to  me  :  The  ring 
v/as  stolen  from  him  twenty  years  ago.  At  my  request, 
but  in  vain,  he  has  had  it  advertised  in  the  churches 
as  a  family  jewel,  and  advises  me  not  to  attach  any 
importance  to  that  old  superstition,  which  only  makes 
men  mad.  The  counsel  is  doubtless  quite  sensible, 
but — is  there  no  declared  favorite  of  fortune  here  from 
whom  I  might  demand  back  my  rightful  inheritance  ? 
....  A  quarter  of  ten  !  It  is  time  to  dispatch  our 
affair  number  five.'' 

Count  Bernhard  took  out  a  pair  of  pistols,  richly 
inlaid  with  gold  and  ornamented  with  the  royal 
Spanish  arms,  examined  them  carefully,  changed  flints 
in  the  locks,  put  them  into  the  pocket  of  his  long  fur- 


J5G  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

bordered  overcoat,  and,  stepping  into  his  waiting  car- 
riage, ordered  the  coactiman  to  drive  to  Solna. 

Northwest  from  Stockholm,  in  that  quiet  rural 
region  where  Chorsus  now  rests  near  the  wall  of  the 
old  church,  and  whither  an  echo  of  the  city's  noise 
seldom  intrudes,  the  spring  sunshine  had  already 
melted  away  the  snow,  and  the  first  skylarks  were 
chirping  far  up  in  the  blue  ether.  West  of  the  church 
lay  a  little  pine  forest,  and  near  it  a  peasant  farm,  where 
sometimes  this  or  that  honest  Stockholmite  used  in 
summer-time  to  go,  with  children  and  flowers,  in  quest  of 
a  bowl  of  sour  milk  or  a  basket  of  refreshing  strawber- 
ries. But  now,  in  bad  going,  the  region  was  so  lonely  that 
a  more  suitable  place  could  scarcely  have  been  chosen 
for  such  affairs  as  this,  "  number  five,"  which  belonged 
to  the  every-day  amusements  of  the  nobility,  but  to 
which  the  honorable  Count  Bertelskold,  however, 
seemed  to  attach  so  little  importance. 

The  two  antagonists  were  punctual,  and  arrived 
almost  at  the  stroke  of  ten.  Baron  Sprengtport  being 
accompanied  by  his  second.  Captain  Wagenfelt. 
Neither  the  song  of  the  larks,  nor  the  glad  sunshine, 
nor  the  spring-like  feeling  in  all  nature,  seemed  to 
make  the  least  impression  on  the  gentlemen.  They 
greeted  each  other  politely  but  coldly,  and  the  place 
was  fixed  upon  near  the  extremity  of  the  pine  forest,  a 
hundred  paces  from  the  peasant  farm,  whose  inhabit- 
ants, not  unaccustomed  to  such  guests,  scarcely  seemed 
to  honor  them  with  transient  attention. 

A  fourth  person,  however,  was  still  lacking.  Ber- 
telskold's  second,  Auditor  Hagerflycht,  who  had 
promised  to  ride  out  at  the  appointed  time,  kept  them 
waiting. 

The  gentlemen  became  impatient.  "Your  second, 
sir  count,  seems  to  have  forgotten  himself  at  break- 
fast," said  Sprengtport. 

"  He  is  probably  correcting  the  minutes  after  the 
expulsion  of  the  council,"  replied  Bertelskold,  with  an 


EVENING   STORMS.  157 

irritating  allusion  to  the  occasion  of  their  quarrel. 
"  That  will  not  prevent  our  deciding  the  affair,  in  case 
Captain  Wagenfelt  will  have  the  goodness  to  serve  us 
both." 

"  No,  sir  count,  that  is  a  courtesy  on  your  part 
which  I  cannot  accept,"  reponded  the  antagonist. 
"  Will  you  permit  me  to  offer  a  glass  of  Madeira  while 
we  are  waiting  ?"  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  flask, 
whose  screwed-on  tin  stopper  served  as  a  beaker. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  replied  Bertelskold, 
for  the  spring  wind  was  blowing  cold  from  the  town, 
and  the  clock  in  the  tower  of  St.  Jacob's  Church  was 
heard  to  strike  half-past  ten. 

"  It  is  said,  sir  count,  that  you  have  the  best  pis- 
tols in  Sweden,"  resumed  Sprengtport.  "Shall  we 
while  away  the  time  with  a  little  shooting  at  a  mark  ? " 

"  If  that  is  your  pleasure,  baron.  I  had  the  hap- 
piness, on  a  hunt  in  Aranjuez,  to  lay  low  a  wild  boar 
which  had  seized  the  Infant  of  Spain,  and  his  highness 
was  pleased  to  give  me  the  pistols  as  a  souvenir  of  my 
trifling  service.  They  really  do  not  hit  badly.  See 
there  !  " 

A  sparrow  flew  up  from  the  fence  near  by.  The 
shot  cracked,  and  the  winged  inhabitant  of  Solna 
forest  fell  with  crushed  head  to  the  ground. 

"  Bravo  !  Well  hit,  my  dear  count,"  exclaimed 
Sprengtport.  "  The  Infant  of  Spain  could  not  do 
that  better.  I  really  do  not  know  whether  I  should 
venture  to  compete  with  you,  but  perhaps  I  can  beg 
Captain  Wagenfelt  to  be  good  enough  to  hold  this 
louis  d'or  between  his  thumb  and  second  finger.  Oh  ! 
be  calm  !     I  will  be  responsible  for  the  fingers  !  " 

The  captain  hesitated  a  moment,  but,  seeing  Ber- 
telskold's  sarcastic  face,  he  took  the  gold  coin  with 
averse  hand,  and  placed  himself  eight  paces  distant. 

"  No,  fifteen,  if  I  may  beg,"  said  the  baron,  with  a 
nod  and  a  .smile.  "  You  remember  that  is  the  distance 
agreed  upon  to-day. 


158 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


And  almost  without  taking  aim,  he  raised  the 
pistol.  Instantly  the  light  blue  smoke  flew  out  of  its 
muzzle,  and  the  gold  coin,  flattened  by  the  ball,  lay  a 
few  paces  away.  A  more  skillful  marksman  than 
Sprengtport  was  hardly  to  be  found  at  that  time. 

"  I  return  your  compliment,  sir  baron,"  said  Ber- 
telskold,  calmly.  "  That  shot  ought  to  be  rewarded 
with  a  field-marshal's  staff.  Nevertheless,  baron,  you 
will,  I  hope,  not  insist  that  the  inexplicable  delay  of 
my  second  shall  detain  us  any  longer.  My  time  is 
occupied." 

"  Mine  too,  but  I  cannot  kill  you  without  legal 
witnesses,  sir  count !  " 

"  But  I  shall  not  have  the  least  trouble  in  killing 
you,  sir  baron  !  " 

"  There  comes  Hagerflygt  at  last !  "  exclaimed 
Captain  Wagenfelt,  pointing  to  a  carriage,  which,  with 
weary  horses,  was  slowly  approaching  on  the  bad 
road. 

"That  is  not  he,"  said  Bertelskold;  "that  is  a 
stranger." 

The  stranger  came  nearer,  and  out  of  the  carriage, 
with  hurrying  pace,  sprung  a  young  man,  clad  in  black. 
It  was  Paul  Bertelskold. 

"  Ah,  this  is  most  opportune  for  us.  It  is  your 
brother,  sir  count,  who  offers  to  become  your  second." 

"  By  whose  permission  are  you  here,  sir  ? "  exclaimed 
Count  Bernhard,  pale  with  anger.  "  Leave  this  place 
instantly  !  " 

Paul  pretended  not  to  hear  those  words,  or  did  not 
take  the  trouble  to  answer.  Turning  with  a  slight 
salutation  to  Baron  Sprengtport,  he  said  : 

"  Allow  me,  sir  baron,  to  be  the  first  to  exchange  a 
shot  with  you  ?" 

"  What,  pray  ?  " 

"I  beg  the  honor  of  exchanging  balls  with  you. 

"  Are  you  crazy,  sir  ?  V/ hat  the  devil  have  we 
against  each  other  ? " 


EVENING    STORMS.  159 

"  Nothing.     But  I  renew  my  request." 

"  See  here,  my  young  friend,  it  is  almost  eleven 
o'clock.  We  have  not  time  to  gossip  away  the  whole 
day  in  children's  babble.  Have  the  goodness  to 
measure  out  the  ground  with  Captain  Wagenfelt,  and 
then  take  your  position  as  second  !  " 

"Sir  baron  !  "  responded  Paul,  "  I  am  not  a  child, 
to  be  frightened  with  bugbears,  and  I  declare  that  if 
you  intend  to  fight  with  Count  Bernhard  Bertelskold, 
you  must  first  fight  with  me.  If  you  refuse,  I  pro- 
nounce you,  in  the  presence  of  these  gentlemen,  a  rascal 
and  a  wretch." 

"  Hoity-toity,  sir!  Only  hear  the  darling  !  "  said 
Sprengtport,  half  vexed  and  half  laughing.  "  Why, 
you  talk  like  an  old  fellow.  Then  have  you  such  an 
extraordinary  desire  to  be  killed,  my  young  sir?  " 

"  That  is  indifferent  to  me.  I  want  to  fight  with 
you." 

"  What  say  you,  sir  count,  about  this  proposition  ? 
You  have  indisputably  an  older  right  to  my  ball,  so  it 
belongs  to  you  to  consent  or  refuse." 

"  I  reply  that  the  boy  is  crack-brained,  and  that  any 
one  who,  unbidden,  mingles  himself  in  an  affair  of 
honor,  deserves  to  be  chased  away  by  our  lackeys. 
However,  and  as  my  second  still  tarries,  I  give  you 
perfect  liberty,  sir  baron,  to  dispatch  him  as  you  think 
best." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Paul,  with  a  graceful  bow. 
^'  Perhaps  I  may  ask  you.  Count  Bertelskold,  to  be  my 
second.  I  will  afterward  do  you  the  same  service,  if  it 
lies  in  my  power." 

"  Why,  my  dear  sirs !  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  with 
visible  surprise,  "  have  I  heard  wrongly,  or  are  the  gen- 
tlemen not  brothers  ? " 


IGO  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CONCLUSION    OF    AFFAIR    NUMBER    FIVE, 

"  T  T  AVE  I  heard  wrongly  ?  Are  not  the  gentlemen 
\~\_  brothers  ?  "  These  questions  touched  Paul 
Bertelskold;  he  took  four  steps  forward,  approached 
Count  Bernhard,  and  offered  him  his  hand,  without  by 
a  word  betraying  those  feelings  which  were  struggling 
within  him. 

"Your  brother  offers  you  his  hand,  sir  count !"  said 
Sprengtport. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  done  with  those  stupid 
boys  of  the  house  of  lords  ?  "  said  Count  Bernhard  to 
Wagenfelt,  without  noticing  the  reconciliation  and  self- 
denial  Paul  had  offered  him.  "  Send  them  home  to 
their  fathers,  and  recommend  a  flogging  for  them  !  " 

Paul  withdrew  his  hand,  and  said  to  Sprengtport : 
"  Sir  colonel,  you  will  have  the  first  shot." 

"  Well,  if  you  are  utterly  tired  of  life,  then  a  la 
bonheur.  But  I  will  not  accept  any  advantage,  and  pro- 
pose that  we  shoot  at  the  same  time.  You  can  depend 
on  my  pistols.  The  one  never  misses  fire  when  the 
other  goes  off.      Those  two  are  brothers  !  " 

The  seconds  measured  off  the  ground.  That 
friendly  service,  Count  Bernhard  could  not  deny  his 
brother.  They  shared  wind  and  sun  alike,  and  it  had 
been  agreed  that  the  two  combatants,  from  a  distance 
of  twenty  paces,  should  advance  toward  each  other, 
and  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  paces,  both  should  shoot  at 
the  same  time. 

It  was  done,  the  signal  was  given,  and  the  never- 
failing  weapons  went  off  so  simultaneously  that  the 
report  resembled  that  of  a  single  shot. 


EVENING   STORMS.  161 

Paul  had  been  standing  near  a  pine  tree.  When  the 
smoke  was  dissipated,  he  was  seen  staggeringly  grasp- 
ing after  the  trunk  of  the  tree. 

"A  flesh-wound !  An  extra  cutlet  in  the  left 
shoulder-blade.  It  is  of  no  consequence — will  be  well 
in  two  weeks  !"  exclaimed  Baron  Sprengtport,  with  a 
cheerful  countenance,  as  he  hurried  forward,  for  he  was 
accustomed  to  calculating  to  a  dot  where  the  ball 
should  strike. 

"  It  is  nothing  !  "  said  Paul,  but  at  the  same  time 
his  cheeks  whitened,  and  he  sunk  to  the  ground,  while 
his  powerless  hand  glided  down  the  tree-trunk. 

Two  of  the  gentlemen  hastened  to  him,  but  the 
third  stood  motionless.  It  was  found  that  the  ball  had 
hit  almost  at  the  spot  appointed  it;  only  a  half-inch  too 
low,  and  that  half-inch  made  the  "  cutlet "  in  the 
shoulder-blade  very  dubious. 

"  The  devil  !  "  said  Sprengtport,  "  I  must  have  had 
a  little  sun  in  my  eyes.  Will  you  be  good  enough,  sir 
captain,  to  get  the  young  fellow  cared  for  at  the  peas- 
ant-yard, till  I  have  time  to  procure  a  physician  ?  I, 
myself,  need  a  tailor,  for  the  present,  both  for  my  coat 
and  my  carcass.  But  here  is  a  bandage  which  I  always 
carry  with  me,"  and  he  showed  his  bleeding  right  arm, 
oh  which  Paul's  bullet  had  ripped  open  the  sleeve  so 
skillfully,  from  the  elbow  to  the  shoulder,  that  no  shears 
could  have  done  it  better. 

"  What  a  misfortune?  You  are  wounded,  you  are 
bleeding,  my  dear  baron!"  now  exclaimed  Count  Bern- 
hard,  and  that  was  the  first  token  of  sympathy  heard 
from  his  lips. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply;  "  for  this  time,  you  must  par- 
don me,  sir  count,  that  I  cannot  serve  you  with  a  bullet 
in  the  forehead,  for  which  I  fancy  I  feel  more  and  more 
inclination,  the  further  I  have  had  the  honor  of  profit- 
ing by  your  acquaintance.  As  you  see,  I  am  rendered 
unable  to  manage  my  weapon.  So  it  is  your  brother  to 
whom  you  are  indebted  for  your  life,  perhaps  by  the 
7* 


1G2  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

sacrifice  of  his  own.  The  gentlemen  were  brothers 
notwithstanding,  I  see." 

"  I  beg  you  remember  that  our  settlement  is  deferred, 
but  not  decided! "  rejoined  Count  Bernhard,  dark  of 
mood. 

"  I  hope  so,  if  there  is  any  divine  justice  in  re- 
serve," replied  Sprengtport.  "That  young  man,  your 
brother,  whom  I  saw  for  the  first  time  the  day  before 
yesterda}',  and  with  whom  I  have  never  passed  a  hasty 
word, — why  do  you  suppose  he  sought  us  here,  and 
buzzed  like  a  wasp  about  my  ears  ?  That  is  not  exactly 
common,  sir  count,  for  the  rumor  of  my  former  recon- 
tres  have  a  wonderful  effect  in  keeping  winged  animals 
at  a  distance.  But  I  will  exchange  my  sword  for  an 
unpeeled  red  beet,  and  my  noble  name  for  a  gypsy's 
sacerdotal  certificate,  if  the  young  noddy  did  not  come 
and  demand  the  preference  solely  for  your  sake.  And 
yet, — when  he  offered  you  his  hand,  you  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  bestow  on  him  any  attention.  Fie,  sir  count! 
That  was  ignoble  of  you!  Tell  me  the  worst  of  which  one 
brother  can  be  guilty  toward  another, — say  that  he  has 
stolen  my  sweetheart,  that  he  has  robbed  my  inheri- 
tence,  that  he  has  reviled  my  honor,  if  possible,  that  he 
has  killed  our  common  father  or  our  common  mother, 
— for  nature  cannot  so  infamously  abnegate  herself  that 
you  two  can  have  both  father  and  mother  in  common, 
— and  yet  if  he  came  to  me  at  such  a  time,  when  no 
one  knows  who  is  to  be  alive  an  hour  later, — and  if  he 
came  to  buy  my  life  by  offering  his  own, — and  reached 
me  his  hand  at  such  a  moment, — no,  sir  count,  if  at 
that  time  I  took  it  on  my  conscience  to  repulse  his 
hand,  I  should  never  again  be  able  to  look  an  honest 
man  in  the  eyes,  and  should  regard  myself  stricken 
like  a  disgrace  from  the  human  race,  whose  most  sacred 
mandate  I  had,  like  a  cannibal,  trampled  under  foot ! 
There  you  have  my  parting  words,  you  so-called  count, 
who  have  not  so  much  noble  blood  in  your  veins  as  my 
meanest  baggage  boy,  and  who,  by  your  Spanish  em- 


EVENING  STORMS.  1G3 

bassy,  learned  nothing  but  vanity,  cabinet  intrigues,  the 
dagger,  the  vendetta,  and  perhaps,  as  the  crown  of 
these  inestimable  quaUfications,  the  art  of  draping  your 
mantle  so  that  you  look  like  a  brigand-chief.  See  to 
the  young  man,  Wagenfelt!  I  will  make  haste  and  im- 
mediately send  my  carriage  and  a  physician." 

With  these  words,  Baron  Sprengtport  disdainfully 
turned  his  back  on  his  antagonist,  and,  humming  a 
favorite  melody  from  the  opera  of  Zenaide,  rode  back 
to  town,  while  Bernhard  Bertelskold,  apparently  per- 
fectly indifferent,  followed  him  in  his  carriage  a  few 
steps  behind.  Paul  was  meantime  taken  to  the  peasant 
cottage,  where  Captain  Wagenfelt  examined  the  wound, 
and  found  that  the  ball  must  have  passed  through  a 
lobe  of  the  right  lung,  or  at  least  very  near  it.  The 
bleeding  was  profuse,  and  almost  impossible  to  check. 

In  the  cottage,  there  were  only  an  elderly  couple 
with  their  grand-children,  and  a  middle-aged  woman, 
who  at  the  entrance  of  the  strangers  was  sitting  and 
reading  to  the  peasant  folks. 

"  There  is  something  that  Mora  from  Ostanlid 
ought  to  mend,  so  it  will  stick  together,  or  he  will  bleed 
to  death  by  noon,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his 
head. 

At  these  words,  the  reading  woman  slowly  raised 
her  eyes  from  the  book,  and  closing  it  very  carefully, 
approached  the  wounded  and  as  yet  unconscious  youth. 

"  Will  you  let  me  take  care  of  that?"  inquired  the 
woman,  and,  without  waiting  for  reply,  she  thrust  the 
others  aside. 

"  Mora  repairs  critters  and  other  folk,"  put  in  the 
old  man,  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  collegium  medicum 
making  out  a  certificate  for  a  prince's  own  huntsman  or 
a  hard-soap  manufacturer.  "  The  gentleman  can  just 
as  well  go  back  to  town  and  attend  to  his  business. 
Mora  will  be  quite  responsible  for  the  young  man's 
life." 


164  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

ANOTHER    DISAPPEARANCE. 

FOR  Marchioness  Egmont,  the  hours  passed  by 
with  the  slowness  of  snails.  Time  and  again 
she  rung  for  Babette,  to  ask  if  any  visitor  had  been 
announced  at  the  great  stairway,  if  the  carriage  had 
been  sent  back,  if  any  messenger  was  waiting  down  in 
the  hall,  and  a  thousand  other  things  with  which  im- 
patience and  melancholy  are  wont  to  bother  themselves 
and  others.  We  must  do  Babette  the  justice  to  say 
that  she  knew  how,  with  a  certain  adroitness,  to  vary 
the  monotonous  replies.  Once  it  was  "  No,  madame  !" 
another  time,  "  Oh,  preserve  us  !"  the  third  time,  "  Who 
should  it  have  been  ?"  and  a  toss  of  the  head  completed 
the  meaning. 

"  Babette  !"  said  the  marchioness,  at  last,  "  I  think 
I  hear  a  carriage." 

Babette  went,  and  returned  with  the  reply  that  the 
young  count  had  sent  the  carriage  back  from  Solna. 

"  Go  ask  the  coachman  what  persons  he  met  at 
Solna." 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  ask  about  that  on  my 
own  account,  "  said  Babette  mischievously,  "  and  An- 
dersson  thought  he  recognized  Colonel  Sprengtport, 
but  the  other  two  gentlemen  he  did  not  know.  They 
seem  to  have  been  amusing  themselves  by  shooting  at 
a  mark." 

"  Tell  Andersson  to  bring  the  carriage  again;  I  want 
to  ride  out  immediately,"  said  the  marchioness, 
blanching.  She  now  understood  everything,  and 
trembled  as  she  remembered  Baron  Sprengtport's  well- 
known  art  of  killing. 

"  The  horses  are  tired,  madame  !" 


EVENING   STORMS.  165 

"  Then  have  the  Arabian  saddled." 

The  command  was  obeyed;  but  the  half-hour  that 
elapsed  before  Marchioness  Egmont  was  on  horseback, 
and,  accompanied  by  her  groom,  was  bounding  along 
Drottning  Street,  up  King's  Hill,  and  on  past  Korstrand, 
out  toward  Carlberg  and  Solna,  that  half-hour  seemed 
to  her  longer  than  the  month  she  had  spent  on  the 
journey  hither  from  Paris. 

Near  Carlberg,  she  met  a  horseman,  Captain  Wagen- 
felt,  who  was  returning  to  town  to  breakfast.  His 
embarrassed  mien  did  not  escape  the  keen  eyes  of  the 
young  horsewoman,  and  instead  of  passing  with  a  slight 
salutation,  she  quickly  reined  her  horse  across  the  road, 
and  cut  off  every  means  of  the  captain's  escaping  her. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir  captain,"  said  she;  "  is  everything 
already  past,  as  you  are  returning  alone  ?" 

"  Count  Bertelskold  and  Baron  Sprengtport  returned 
to  town  about  an  hour  ago." 

"  Unharmed  ?  Answer  me  without  hesitation.  I 
know  all,  and  even  if  I  did  not,  you  would  not  succeed 
in  misleading  me,  captain." 

"  That  being  the  case,"  replied  Wagenfelt,  with  a 
polite  bow,  "  I  can  calm  your  grace  with  the  assurance 
that  everything  was  a  bagatelle.  Baron  Sprengtport 
only  got  his  right  arm  slightly  grazed.  It  is  a  mere 
scratch,  and  will  be  healed  by  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  And  Count  Bertelskold  ?" 

"  Not  a  hair  of  his  head  is  harmed,  provided  he  has 
not  broken  down  on  the  road  home,  for,  in  this  condition 
of  the  roads,  anything  is  possible." 

The  marchioness  transfixed  the  victim  of  her  curi- 
osity. 

"  Baron  Sprengtport  has  not  been  lucky  to-day. 
He  has  been  wounded,  and  his  antagonist  is  unharmed. 
Admit,  sir  captain,  that  that  is — how  shall  I  express 
myself!* — rather  improbable." 

"  Your  grace  will  have  the  opportunity  to  obtain 
the  most  reliable  intelligence  from  Count  Bertelskold 


166  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

himself,  for,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  is  his  carriage  and 
himself  which  are  to  be  seen  there  in  the  distance 
returning  from  town,"  said  the  captain,  making  a  skillful 
but  unsuccessful  attempt  to  escape. 

"  An  hour  ago,  you  say.  Count  Bertelskold  went 
from  Solna  to  town,  and  now  he  is  returning  from  town 
to  Solna.  E.xplain  to  me  such  an  uncommon  taste  for 
country  life,  sir  captain  !" 

"  He  probably  has  some  reason  which  he  knows 
better  than  I." 

"  Where  is  his  brother,  young  Paul  Bertelskold  ?" 

"  Your  grace  has  a  wonderfully  handsome  horse. 
What  did  it  cost?" 

"  I  ask  you,  captain,  once  more,  where  is  Paul 
Bertelskold  >" 

"  And  J  once  more  most  humbly  reply  that  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  slender-built  Algerian." 

The  marchioness  drew  forth,  from  the  holster  of 
the  saddle,  a  most  highly  ornamented  little  pistol, 
inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl,  cocked  it,  and  pointed  the 
muzzle  toward  the  Arabian's  restless  ears. 

"  My  horse  seems  to  have  won  your  approbation, 
sir  captain,"  said  she,  playing  with  the  weapon.  "  Well, 
I  have  a  proposal  to  make  you.  Either  you  will  tell 
me  immediately,  and  without  circumlocution,  where 
that  young  man  is,  whom  the  gentlemen  have  killed,  or 
my  Saladin  shall,  the  next  moment,  lie  dead  at  your 
feet.  So  it  depends  upon  you  whether  I  am  left  on 
foot,  on  the  highway.   .  .  ." 

Wagenfelt  hesitated.  He  very  well  knew  that  the 
resolute  little  French  woman  could  keep  her  word  when 
she  once  got  anything  into  her  head. 

"  If  your  grace  will  ride  toward  Solna  Church,  west 
of  the  church  will  be  seen  a  little  pine  forest,  and  near 
it  a  red-painted  peasant-cottage.  Paul  Bertelskold  is 
there  but  I  conjure  your  grace.  ..." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?" 

"  Not  yet." 


EVENING   STORMS.  167 

"  That  is  good.  I  thank  you  for  my  Saladin's  life, 
and  wish  you  a  pleasant  ride,  sir  captain." 

With  these  words,  Marchioness  Egmont  left  the 
passage  free,  and  let  her  Arabian  bound  off  as  fleetly 
as  though  he  felt  the  burning  sand  of  the  desert  beneath 
his  hoofs.  Before  long  she  had  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  Solna. 

"The  devil!"exclaimed  the  captain,  with  the  national 
Swedish  expression  for  the  highest  degree  of  astonish- 
ment. "  What  a  woman  !  How  proud,  how  captivat- 
ing, even  in  her  caprices  !  Upon  my  honor,  I  would 
be  almost  tempted  to  exchange  with  that  young  noddy 
over  there,  and  take  his  ball  in  my  body.  She  is  in 
love  with  him, — I'll  wager  that  !  She  is  stark  mad 
with  love.  And  yet, — what  a  woman  !  What  a  charmer  ! 
In  all  Sweden,  she  has  not  an  equal  !" 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  marchioness,  after  having 
left  her  panting  groom  far  behind,  was  at  the  peasant 
cottage.  She  entered.  The  old  couple  were  alone 
and  seemed  surprised  by  this  new  visit. 

"  Where  is  the  wounded  young  man  ?"  asked  the 
marchioness,  pale  as  a  withered  rose,  notwithstanding 
the  ride  ought  to  have  suffused  her  cheeks  with  the 
crimson  of  the  peony. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  pretended  not  to 
understand  her  broken  Swedish. 

"  See  here  !"  continued  the  marchioness,  tossing 
him  a  purse  which  resounded  against  the  old  pine  table. 
"  Take  me  to  him  immediately  ;   I  am — his  sister." 

"  The  young  gentleman,  believe  me,  is  gone  away. 
It  was  his  relations  who  went  off  with  him,"  replied  the 
old  man  hesitatingly,  and  probably  touched  by  the 
jingling  eloquence  of  the  purse. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?     What  relations  ?" 

"  You  see  we  did  not  find  out  very  much  about  it. 
As  soon  as  the  captain  went  to  town,  to  eat  in  town,  for 
you  see  grand  gentlemen  are  all  as  hungry  as  wolves, 


168  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

in  the  morning,  a  rickety  carriage  came  here,  and  went 
off  with  him,  they  said,  to  the  doctor." 

"Whither?" 

"  On  the  highway." 

"  In  what  direction  on  the  highway?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  nobody  found  that  out." 

A  sudden  suspicion  flashed  through  the  head  of  the 
marchioness.  Would  Count  Bernhard  ? — But  here  he 
was  coming  himself  ;  he  was  just  entering  the  door. 
He  had,  on  the  wTxy  back  to  town,  had  time  to  reflect 
how  it  must  injure  his  reputation,  if  it  became  known 
that  he  had  left  his  brother  in  that  situation,  and  there- 
fore hastening  to  be  beforehand  with  Sprengtport,  he 
had  now,  with  brotherly  affection,  which  the  world 
would  be  compelled  to  admire,  himself  brought  a 
physician  out  to  Solna. 

"  Your  friendship  comes  too  late  ;  Paul  has  disap- 
peared !"  exclaimed  the  marchioness. 

"  Disappeared  !  Impossible  !"  responded  Count 
Bernhard,  doubly  surprised,  and  not  agreeably. 

"  You  surpass  yourself.  It  is  you  who  have  had 
him  carried  away  in  order  to  be  sure  of  his  death  !" 
said  the  marchioness,  cuttingly. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    NEWSPAPERS    AND    THEIR    READERS. 

IN  the  burgher  club  of  the  Caps,  a  few  worthy 
representatives  were  sitting  with  their  pipes  and 
ale-mugs,  deeply  engaged  in  important  deliberations. 
They  had  just  disposed  of  the  vacated  places  of  the 
councilors,  and  agreed  upon  the  affairs  of  Poland, 
when  the  waiter-boy  entered  with  the  day's  papers,  and 
received  for  ihem  his  ordinary  fee  of  two-pence  from 


EVENING  STORMS,  169 

each  customer.  The  "  papers  "  were  at  that  time  still 
in  the  first  hopeful  budding  of  childhood,  but  the  real 
animus  of  the  modern  journal  was  already  in  them,  as 
well  as  curiosity  in  their  readers.  For  awhile,  the  gen- 
tlemen sat  in  solemn  silence,  each  with  his  nose  pointed 
to  his  paper. 

"  Brother  Larsson  !  "  finally  exclaimed  one  of  the 
representatives. 

"What,  please  ?" 

"Here  is  something  concerning  yourself  in  the 
first  place,  and  the  house  in  the  second.  '  Whereas  my 
wife  Esther,  ne'e  Larsson,  in  an  unknown  manner  has 
deserted  my  dwelling,  and  it  cannot  be  found  out  what 
place  she  at  presents  frequents  ' " 

"  Let  me  take  it,"  said  Thomas,  who,  like  almost 
all  East  Bothnians,  was  fond  of  his  family  and  jealous 
of  its  honor.  As  he  read  the  slanderous  announce- 
ment, where  every  letter  was  calculated  to  murder  a 
woman-heart,  his  stern  sunburnt  forehead  was  seen  to 
furrow,  and  his  lips  firmly  close. 

"  Is  she  not  your  blood-aunt?"  inquired  the  repre- 
sentative. 

Larsson  nodded. 

"  Well,  it  was  plain  that  it  would  turn  out  so,  when 
:she  allowed  herself  to  be  taken  into  the  hawk's  nest. 
Truly,  we  are  living  in  the  last  days  of  the  world. 
Have  you  heard,  brother,  what  they  say  about  the 
Bertelskolds  ? " 

"  No." 

"  They  say  that  in  that  family  there  never  has  been 
two  brothers  who  have  not  been  the  bitterest  enemies  to 
each  other,  and  it  is  no  longer  ago  than  yesterday  that 
two  of  them  shot  and  buried  each  other  near  Carlberg." 

"  Lideed  !  " 

"  Representative  Falberg  is  a  Dalecarlian,"   smil- 
ingly replied  Burgomaster  HaiggstrOm,  who  thought 
the  story  so  good  that  he  offered  the  narrator  a  pinch 
•of  Spanish  snuff. 
8 


170  TIME  S  OF  AL  CHEM  V. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  representative,  and  con- 
tinued, "it  is  said  to  have  taken  place  because  they 
got  into  a  quarrel  about  a  marchioness  .  .  .  ." 

"  Apropos^  gentlemen,  here  is  a  very  exquisite  bit 
in  the  State  Fiscal,"  interposed  a  spindle-shanked 
apothecary  from  Norrtelje,  known  as  the  poet  of  the 
diet.  "  That  is  what  I  call  writing  soundly  and  hon- 
estly, without  any  deceitful  verbiage.  Do  but  hear 
how  delicately  and  edifyingly  such  an  arrant  rascal  of 
a  fellow  writes  !  '  How  long  shall  noble  Swedes  let 
foreign  dogs,  human  wolves,  and  lewd  trash,  who  fat- 
ten by  the  sweat  and  blood  of  honest  people,  bungle 
with  the  welfare  of  the  country  ! '  You  see,  my  good 
sirs,  that  pinches.  That  is  somewhat  more  cutting 
than  Cicero, — what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Read  on  !  "  said  a  grocer,  who  dealt  in  plebeian 
commodities. 

'"A  certain  queen  of  spades  is  also  known,  who 
has  a  good  eye  to  the  king  of  diamonds,' — be  good 
enough  to  observe  '  queen  '  and  '  king  '  !  That  is  ex- 
cellent !  Gentlemen,  I  am  as  loyal  a  subject  as  any 
one,  but  I  maintain  that  the  State  Fiscal  is  the  best 
newspaper  in  Sweden,  and  that  its  editor,  Majister 
Bollfras,  is  a  true  patriot,  who  for  his  deeds  deserves 
well  of  his  country." 

"Of  course,"  responded  the  burgomaster,  with  a 
new  pinch  of  snuff.  "  He  is  at  present  clawing  the 
eyes  out  of  the  nobility,  but  was  it  not  this  same  Boll- 
fras who  was  last  autumn  clawing  all  the  honor  and 
honesty  out  of  the  untitled  estates  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  shouted  the  others  in  their  turn. 

"Be  good  enough  to  observe  '  D Street.'     No 

one  can  guess  that.     And  '  Mar ss  E 1.'     No 

one  can  interpret  that  either.  Admit  that  he  is  a  pol- 
ished fellow !  And  she  receives  fifty  thousand  rix- 
doUars  salary  for  ruining  the  kingdom  !  " 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  " 

"  Possible  ?     It  is  as  sure  as  that  a  nation  of  angels 


EVENING   STORMS.  171 

might  at  last  lose  patience.  This  evening  I  heard 
something  whispered  on  Kornhamn  Square,  and  down 
there  among  the  pitch-jackets  at  the  wharf  the  state 
of  feeling  was  not  just  what  it  should  be.  I  should 
not  like  to  be  in  the  place  of  the  queen  of  spades  at 
ten  o'clock  to-night  .  .  .  ." 

*'  Why  !  would  they  really  ....?" 

And  one  after  another  of  the  younger  ones  in  the 
company  glided  silently  to  the  door. 

"  Well,  representative,  do  you  intend  to  do  any- 
thing with  that  infamous  advertisement  ?  "  asked  Bur- 
gomaster Haeggstrom. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Larsson.  "  It  was  never 
the  wish  of  the  family  that  my  aunt  should  give  herself 
and  her  wealth  to  that  haughty  count.  'As  she  has 
carded,  so  has  she  spun.'  They  now  want  to  get  rid  of 
her.  Let  them,  for  all  me.  Thank  God,  I  have  a  piece 
of  bread  for  my  aunt,  too,  and  as  long  as  I  live  she 
shall  not  need  to  go  hungry." 

"  But  the  nobility  rabble  ought  not  to  be  successful 
in  their  evil  wish.  What  do  you  think  of  a  law-suit, 
representative?  It  would  batter  those  untractable 
counts." 

"  It  will  not  do,"  said  Larsson. 

"  There  are  several  sides  to  the  question,"  rejoined 
the  jurist;  "but  if  nothing  else  is  won,  chicanery  will  be 
set  in  motion.  That  story  about  the  counts  yesterday 
comes  as  though  for  that  very  purpose." 

"  Hm — ,  I  will  write  to  father  in  Wasa." 

"  Apropos  of  your  father,  is  it  true  that  the  old 
man  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  Jew  who  robs  him 
under  the  pretext  of  making  gold  ?" 

"  Silly  gossip  !  " 

"  So  much  the  better.  And  I  cannot  believe  it  about 
your  father,  who  has  always  been  a  discreet  man,  and 

careful  of  his  own  interests But  what  noise  can 

that  be  on  the  street  ? " 

The  loud  din  of  a  turbulent  multitude  was    heard 


173  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

outside  the  club-room,  which  was  situated  on  a  cross- 
street,  not  far  from  Drottning  Street. 

Outside  of  Marchioness  Egmont's  house,  a  growing 
mass  of  people  had  begun  gradually  to  collect,  at  first 
with  sarcasms  of  a  harmless  nature,  which  soon,  how- 
ever, turned  into  shouts  and  threats,  as  the  watchful 
crowd,  according  to  its  wont  on  such  occasions,  suc- 
ceeded by  degrees  in  exciting  itself.  That  usually 
richly  illuminated  house  was  certainly  quite  dark  to- 
night, and  no  plausible  reason  existed  which  ought  to 
have  awakened  the  ill-will  of  the  populace  ;  but  not  in 
vain  had  the  "State  Fiscal"  appealed  to  "noble 
Swedes"  to  prevent  the  "queen  of  spades"  from  be- 
ing "elevated  to  the  ace  of  trumps,  and  ruling  the 
kingdom  with  Famished  Fox."  The  discontent  fer- 
menting on  every  side  was  seeking  a  victim,  no  matter 
whom,  and  now  turned  toward  a  poor,  defenceless 
woman,  who  had  the  five  unpardonable  faults  of  being 
young,  beautiful,  rich,  lovely,  and  a  stranger  in  Stock- 
holm. 

"  Out  with  the  bride  !  Out  with  the  bride!  "  shouted 
a  number  of  voices,  as  at  a  wedding. 

"  Out  with  the  queen  !  She  is  only  a  small  card  to 
the  king  !  "  bawled  others. 

"  Away  with  all  small  cards  !  "  clamored  others,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  stone  flew  toward  a  pane  in  the 
upper  story. 

That  was  the  signal.  The  first  stone  was  imme- 
diately followed  by  fifty  others,  and  with  the  jingling 
of  the  window-panes  mingled  the  crash  of  broken  mir- 
rors in  the  magnificent  suite  of  rooms.  Here  and 
there  a  timid  policeman  stole  cautiously  around  the 
street  corner,  afraid  even  to  show  himself  before  the 
incensed  crowd. 

Fortunately,  the  marchioness  was  not  in  town.  She 
had  gone  out  in  the  morning,  it  was  not  known  where, 
and  her  attendants  kept  themselves  hidden  in  the  yard. 
When  there  were  no  more  windows  toward   the  street 


EVENING  STORMS.  173 

to  break,  the  crowd  tried  to  storm  the  street  door,  but 
its  firm  iron-bound  oaken  planks  defied  every  assault. 

"  Come,  let  us  call  on  the  count  over  there.  There 
is  light  in  the  windows !  "  cried  some  who  had  wearied 
of  the  bootless  work. 

"  She  is  there  !  She  is  there  !  The  queen  of  spades 
is  with  the  jack  of  clubs  to-night !  "  shrieked  others,  in 
fierce  transport. 

By  one  of  those  strange  veerings  which  are  so 
common  in  popular  fury,  they  had  now  got  it  into 
their  heads  that  the  marchioness  was  at  Count  Bertel- 
skold's  hotel,  which  was  situated  not  far  away.  And 
as  various  dark  rumors  about  a  fratricide  committed 
at  Solna  the  day  before  had  incited  their  temper 
against  the  supposed  murderer,  nothing  more  was 
needed  in  order  quite  unexpectedly  to  lead  all  this 
blind  rage  against  Bertelskold.  The  mob  on  the  streets 
of  Stockholm  did  not  itself  know  how  correct  its 
instinct  at  that  time  was.  No  one  suspected  that  it  was 
turning  toward  the  secret  instigator  himself,  who,  but 
now,  to  satisfy  his  own  revenge,  had  set  all  those 
clamorous  crowds  in  motion  against  an  innocent  object. 

"  Away  with  the  small  cards !  Down  with  all 
counts  and  marquises  !  "  roared  the  forward-surging 
mass,  and,  without  further  declaration  of  war,  a  shower 
of  stones  hailed  against  the  brightly  illuminated  rooms 
where  Count  Bernhard  Bertelskold  had  this  very  even- 
ing gathered  a  few  of  his  political  friends,  to  give 
them  the  pleasure  of  being  witness  to  the  disgrace  and 
downfall  of  Marchioness  Egmont.  The  effect  of  that 
general  volley  must  have  been  just  as  speedy  as  unex- 
pected, for  glimpses  of  confused  shadows  were  seen 
within,  behind  the  curtains,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
rooms  were  empty. 

But  the  crowd  was  not  content.  It  would  have  a 
personal  victim  to  deride  or  annihilate. 

"  Out  with  the  bride  !  Out  with  the  bride  !  "  was 
shrieked  again  more  madly  than  before. 


174  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE    SPIDER    IN    THE    NET. 

COUNT  Bernhard  Bertelskold  had  been  standing 
at  his  window  and  Hstening  to  the  tumult, 
with  that  sarcastic,  self-conceited  smile  which  so 
faithfully  reflected  his  character.  "  It  is  only  a  few 
of  Marchioness  Egmont's  admirers,  bombarding  her 
with  sugar-plums,"  he  had  replied,  when  some  of 
his  guests  asked  the  cause  of  the  tumult,  and  as  those 
present  had  not  belonged  to  the  marchioness's  admirers, 
the  witticism  had  created  much  amusement. 

"  That  is  the  chorus  from  Zenaide,  offering  its 
homage  to  the  first  actress  at  his  royal  majesty's  opera 
comique,"  added  a  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber,  who 
had  made  desperate  but  vain  efforts  to  get  an  invita- 
tion to  the  marchioness's  last  soiree. 

"  The  claque  has  good  fists, — she  is  being  applauded 
according  to  her  deserts  !  "  exclaimed  a  worm-eaten 
president,  who  belonged  to  the  young  Frenchwoman's 
many  rejected  adorers. 

"  Hark  !  The  crowd  is  coming  in  this  direction  ! 
They  are  bringing  her  with  them  in  triumph  !  "  re- 
marked another  like  him. 

"  Baron  Vergennes  will  be  quite  as  much  charmed 
with  madame's  triumphs  as  she  is  herself !  "  added 
Bertelskold. 

No  sooner  was  this  said  than  a  stone  flew  in 
through  the  pane  of  glass  close  beside  him,  and  crushed 
a  languishing  Venus  of  alabaster  near  the  opposite 
wall. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ? "  inquired  the  guests, 
blanching. 


EVE  MING   STORMS.  175 

"A  spent  bullet,  intended  for  another  point,"  replied 
Bertelskold.  But  at  the  same  moment,  another  stone 
flew  through  a  second  window,  and  immediately  after- 
ward followed  a  shower  of  similar  greetings,  here  and 
there  grazing  a  wig,  or  crushing  now  a  pier-glass  and 
now  a  chandelier. 

"  Out  with  the  bride  !  Out  with  the  bride  !  "  was 
the  cry  outside. 

The  guests,  terrified,  fled  into  adjoining  rooms. 
The  host  himself  seemed  for  a  moment  bewildered 
with  amazement.  But  with  whatever  else  Bernhard 
Bertelskold  might  be  upbraided,  he  was  not  a  coward. 
He  contented  himself  with  secretly  sending  a  hint  to 
the  chief  governor  to  clear  the  street;  but  for  that  he 
must  gain  time.  He  opened  the  door  to  the  balcony 
and  walked  out. 

The  street  lighting  consisted  of  a  few  wretched 
oil-lanterns,  several  of  which,  moreover,  had  been 
broken,  but  the  count  was  recognized  by  the  glow  of 
light  from  his  own  salon.  A  savage  roaring,  as  of  a 
thousand  wild  beasts  let  loose,  at  the  sight  of  him 
arose  from  the  dark,  surging  swarm  of  people  in  the 
street. 

"  Down  with  the  fratricide  !  Away  with  the  vil- 
lainous count !  Bring  out  the  bride  ! "  shrieked  the 
mad  multitude,  and  again  a  shower  of  stones,  thick  as 
the  torrent  from  the  thunder-cloud,  buzzed  around  the 
head  of  the  presumptuous  one  who  had  ventured  to 
defy  the  free  people. 

Calm  and  with  folded  arms,  Bertelskold  stood  and 
patiently  waited  until  the  hideous  uproar  had  some- 
what subsided.  He  then  raiaed  his  powerful  voice  and 
said  : 

"  I  thank  every  honest  Swede  here  present,  that 
when  country  is  to  be  avenged,  he  spares  neither  high 
nor  low." 

"  Where  is  your  brother,  you  dog  ? "  shrieked 
sdtoe. 


176  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Hark !  Let  us  hear  what  he  is  lying  to  us  ! '" 
exclaimed  others. 

"  I  thank  every  noble  Swede,"  continued  Bertel- 
skold,  "  that  he  has  avenged  down-trodden  virtue  and 
insulted  country,  on  a  foreign  deceiver,  who  has  come 
hither  to  seize  upon  the  fruit  of  our  sweat  and  toil, 
and  to  steal  the  bread  from  the  poor  laborer's  mouth. 
It  is  honestly  and  honorably  done  of  you,  boys !  I, 
myself,  have  given  up  all  intercourse  with  that  base 
woman  whom  you  seek  to-night,  and  I  shall  give  my- 
self no  rest  until  she  has  been  chased  with  whips  from 
our  old  Sweden,  which  is  too  good  and  too  free  to 
become  the  prey  of  foreign  thieves  ! " 

"  Bravo  !  Bravo  !  Just  hear,  he  is  talking  like  a 
man  !  "  murmured  the  easily  blinded  crowd,  while  a 
few  voices  further  away  still  continued  to  mutter:  "  He 
is  hiding  her  at  his  house  !  Where  has  he  put  his 
brother  ? " 

"  Send  some  from  among  5'^ou  to  search  through  my 
whole  house,  and  if  I  am  hiding  the  traitress  here,  then 
leave  not  one  stone  upon  another !  "  continued  the 
speaker.  *'  Who  asks  after  my  brother  ?  Have  not 
my  brother  and  I  challenged  an  aristocratic  gentleman, 
whom  I  will  not  name,  but  who  lives  over  there  by  the 
tennis  court,  because  he  insulted  the  rights  of  the 
people,  and  decla^'ed  that  all  the  untitled  estates 
ought  to  be  whi'pped  away  from  the  diet?  Have  I  not 
voted  for  the  unseating  of  tte  council  ?  Have  I  not 
defended  the  king  against  his  enemies,  who  wish  to 
rule  the  realm  of  Sweden  according  to  French  and 
Russian  commands  ?  Long  live  the  king  !  Long  live 
the  people  !  Long  live  liberty !  Long  live  old 
Sweden  !     Hurrah  !  " 

"Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !  "  shouted  the  converted  mul- 
titude, who  were  fully  persuaded  that  a  man  who  had 
talked  so  finely  about  "down-trodden  virtue  "  and  the 
"  insulted  country,"  a  man  who  had  fought  so  valiantly 
for  the  people  and  liberty,  could  not  possibly  be  the 


EVENING   STORMS.  177 

murderer  or  traitor  they  had  just  imagined.  And  in 
that  general  resounding  hurrah  soon  mingled  a  multi- 
tude of  hoarse  drunken  voices  shrieking  with  all 
their  might,  "  Long  live  Bertelskold  !  " 

"  I  thank  you,"  continued  the  count,  with  almost  a 
royal  bow,  which  was  all  the  more  becoming  to  him  from 
the  fact  that  no  one,  in  that  dim  light,  could  see  the 
smile  of  scorn  on  his  lips.  "  In  the  name  of  our 
rescued  country  I  thank  you,  and,  for  your  behavior, 
beg  you  to  make  for  yourselves  a  happy  evening." 

At  these  words  he  let  three  purses,  full  of  silver 
coin,  probably  to  the  value  of  three  or  four  hundred 
rix-dollars,  drop  into  the  crowd,  whose  jubilation  now 
exceeded  all  bounds.  There  was  no  end  to  the  cheer- 
ing ;  a  multitude  of  ragged  hats  flew  in  the  air,  and, 
if  the  speaker  had  been  standing  below,  he  would 
surely  have  been  borne  in  triumph  through  the  streets. 

"  To  the  ale-house  !  To  the  ale-house  !  "  a  surging 
shout  was  now  heard,  mingled  with  other  voices  which 
proposed  that  Sprengtport,  the  traitor  near  the  tennis- 
court,  who  had  wished  to  drive  the  untitled  estates 
away  from  the  diet  with  whips,  ought  first  to  be  chas- 
tised. A  quarrel  arose,  and  the  raging  billows  of  the 
riot  began  to  turn  against  each  other. 

Bertelskold  still  continued  standing  on  the  balcony, 
sneering  in  his  heart  at  that  unthinking  rabble  whose 
blind  wrath  he  had  so  well  known  how  to  turn  to  his 
own  ends.  "  It  is  progressing  finely,"  said  he  to  him- 
self. "To-morrow  my  name  will  signify  in  Stockholm 
a  defender  of  liberty,  and  on  the  shoulders  of  this 
same  stupid  mob  I  will  climb  so  high  that  majesty 
itself  shall  tremble.  At  last !  There  come  my  lately 
summoned  actors  in  the  comedy !  The  mob  is  now  to 
pay  the  fiddlers  for  my  broken  windows.  But  I  wash 
my  hands.  Is  it  my  fault  that  the  dragoons  murder 
liberty?     Have  not  I  defended  her  ?  " 

That  message  which  Bertelskold  had  secretly  sent 
to  the  chief  governor  had  not  failed  in  its  effect.  This 
M 


178  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

gentleman  belonged  to  the  Cap  party,  which,  during 
the  great  discontent  in  the  metropolis,  every  moment 
feared  seeing  the  diet  blown  up  by  a  revolution,  so 
nothing  but  a  hmt  was  needed  for  him  to  stifle  the  threat- 
ening insurrection  in  its  very  infancy.  He  had,  there- 
fore, in  the  greatest  haste  given  orders  to  a  squadron 
of  body-guard  dragoons  to  mount  their  horses  and  at 
any  price  whatever  clear  the  streets. 

Thus  it  was  that,  while  the  clamorous  crowd  still 
continued  to  dispute  whether  they  ought  to  betake 
themselves  to  the  ale-houses  or  the  tennis-court,  the 
squadron  from  Norrmalm's  Square  sprung  to  the  left 
and  then  to  the  right  into  Drottning  Street,  driving 
aside  all  who  came  in  its  way.  An  outcry  of  anger 
and  consternation  went  ahead  of  the  horsemen,  and 
quickly  communicated  itself  to  the  masses  outside  the 
hotel,  who  unexpectedly  saw  themselves  attacked  by  a 
fearfully  superior  force.  The  most  furious  assumed 
an  attitude  of  defense,  and  tore  up  stones  from  the 
street  pavement,  but  before  they  had  time  to  prepare 
for  a  regular  protective  struggle  the  dragoons  were  upon 
them  and  blindly  slashing  into  the  dense  crowds,  first 
with  the  flat  of  their  sabers,  and  soon  enough  also  with 
the  edge.  Vain  was  all  defense.  To  the  right  and  the 
left  fell  the  people  under  the  horses'  hoofs,  curses  were 
mingled  with  cries  of  agony,  and  within  a  few  minutes 
the  squadron  had  ridden  past,  all  the  way  driving 
before  them  fleeing  and  scattered  crowds,  which  were 
finally  lost  in  the  more  remote  side  streets. 

Bertelskold  had  drawn  somewhat  back,  but,  with  a 
secret  malicious  delight,  such  as  he  had  not  in  a  long 
time  experienced,  was  still  standing  in  the  balcony 
door.  He  had  been  successful  in  everything  :  he  had 
had  a  full  measure  of  enjoyment  from  the  revenge  he 
had  taken  on  all  his  enemies,  from  the  danger  he  had 
so  skillfully  diverted  from  his  own  head,  and  from  the 
popular  favor  he  had  so  suddenly  arrogated  at  the  ex- 
pense of  that  contemptible  rabble  which  had  greeted 


EVENING   STORMS.  179 

him  as  its  defender,  without  a  foreboding  that  it  was 
immediately  afterward,  through  his  management,  to  he 
bleeding  and  trampled  under  the  horses'  hoofs.  ''  C'est 
tout  accompli^  it  is  all  done  !  "  said  he  to  himself. 

But  he  was  mistaken.  Everything  was  not  yet 
done.     Something  still  remained. 

Into  the  throng  outside  the  hotel  one  of  Mar- 
chioness Egmont's  functionaries  had  also  from  curios- 
ity stolen  to  see  what  the  frantic  crowd  intended 
further  to  undertake.  Hidden  in  the  street  entrance 
opposite,  that  faithful  servant  had  with  the  utmost 
exasperation  been  an  auditor  to  those  insulting  words 
with  which  the  count  had  from  the  balcony  over- 
whelmed his  adored  mistress,  and  he  was  brooding  on 
revenge.  So  when  the  tumult  on  the  street  was  dis- 
sipated, and  BertelskQld  was  still  standing  in  the  bal- 
cony door,  the  man  in  the  street  entrance  picked  up  a 
stone  and  threw  it  with  such  an  infernal  skill  that  it  hit 
the  count  just  above  the  left  temple,  and  felled  him, 
bleeding,  at  the  door  of  the  balcony. 

The  few  guests  still  remaining  hurried  to  him. 
Count  Bertelskold  still  lived,  but  with  no  hope  of  recov- 
ery. The  spider  had  been  slain  in  the  center  of  his 
own  web. 


PART  II. -MORNING  LIGHT. 


INTERLUDE. 


"  "\  T  O,  cousin,  no,  it  will  never  go  right,"  said  old 
j_^  grandmother,  as  she  dubiously  shook  her 
handsome  gray  head,  with  its  simple  white  every-day 
cap,  which  Anne  Sophie  had  made  for  her,  and  which 
became  her  so  well. 

''What  will  not  go  right?"  asked  the  Surgeon, 
with  mischievous  face,  and  looking  her  fixedly  in  the 
eyes. 

"  To  run  away,  like  a  simpleton,  from  husband  and 
child,  when  there  is  a  household  besides  to  attend  to, 
and  she  knows  she  is  leaving  everything  for  the  girls 
to  turn  topsy-turvy.  No,  I  thank  you.  Such  things 
can  be  forgiven  a  little  child,  who  thinks  no  further 
than  the  length  of  his  nose,  but  not  an  older  person 
who  ought  to  have  more  judgment.  I  was  pretty  sure 
something  would  go  wrong  when  Esther  Larsson  mar- 
ried above  her  rank,  for  like  agrees  best  with  like,  and 
if  one  foot  is  to  wear  a  woolen  stocking  the  other 
should  not  be  stuck  into  a  silk  one.  Vain  thoughts 
should  not  be  harbored.  I  remember  that  the  girl 
talked  very  sensibly  when  the  count  came  to  Wasa  to 
woo,  but  you  see  it  was  constantly  ringing  in  her  ears 
to  get  to  be  called  countess.  She  was  'a  born  princess,' 
do  you  say,  cousin  ?  Pardon  me,  that  is,  upon  my 
soul,  mere  unmeaning  talk.  She  was  an  honest  mer- 
chant's daughter,  neither  more  nor  less,  so  far  as  I 
understand,  and  I  think  she  might  have  been  satisfied 
with  that,  when  she  had  a  suitable  livelihood.  But  you 
see  it  did  not  do  for  that  fine  lady  to  stand  in  the  store 
and  weigh  butter  like  other  honest  folks;  she  must  keep 

(180) 


MORNING  LIGHT.  181 

on  running  after  'the  queen  of  the  mist's  garter,'  and 
so  she  came  in  her  stocking  feet  to  that  aristocratic 
family.     What  business  had  she  there?" 

"  Do  you  not  remember,  grandmother,  that  she 
gave  the  count  the  mitten,  and  did  not  accept  him 
until  after  long  reflection,  when  she  saw  that  his  whole 
happiness  depended  upon  it  ?"  warmly  interposed  Anne 
Sophie. 

"  His  happiness  !  That  is  what  they  always  say. 
He  must  have  been  a  poor  sort  of  a  count  if  he  could 
not  take  care  of  himself.  He  was  said  to  be  a  pleasant 
fellow,  to  be  sure,  although  he  was  a  widower  and  lived 
in  a  castle  and  had  money  like  grass.  He  might  any 
time  have  married  some  poor  lady.  It  now  happened, 
as  it  often  happens  in  this  world,  that  the  high-toned 
step-children  turned  up  their  noses,  and  people  gos- 
siped all  sorts  of  foolishness.  But  when  that  had  taken 
place  which  could  no  more  be  altered,  I  think  the  new 
countess  ought  to  have  let  the  odd  be  even,  and  not 
acted  as  though  she  cared  about  the  wry  faces.  What 
worse  was  she  for  them  if  she  had  a  clean  conscience, 
I  would  like  to  know  ?  Since  she  was  so  doughty,  I 
would  have  said,  if  I  had  been  in  her  place,  '  See  here, 
my  dear  Bernardus,  or  whatever  your  name  may  be,  I 
advise  you  to  have  respect  for  your  father  ! '  " 

"  Why,  she  did  say  that  !  "  exclaimed  little  Eliza- 
beth Gret,  who  had  shed  bitter  tears  at  the  sorrowful 
story  in  the  beginning  of  the  previous  narrative. 

"  Hold  your  little  bill  when  old  people  are  talking," 
continued  grandmother,  with  warmth.  "  Thus  and  so 
I  should  have  said  in  the  countess's  place,  and  I  should 
not  have  advised  Sir  Bernardus  to  object,  as  Spanish 
as  he  was.  And  then  I  would  have  remained  in  my 
own  rightful  house,  and  kept  my  own  regular  bunch  of 
keys,  and  looked  after  husband  and  child,  and  taught 
the  girls  manners.  But  to  fly  that  way  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  from  house  and  home,  like  a  gypsy 
woman,  because  she  had  received  snubs  and  imcerti- 


182  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

nence — for  that,  Countess  Esther  will  find  it  hard  to 
justify  herself  before  God  and  man.  Was  the  creature 
stark  mad,  then  ?  I  tell  you,  cousin,  that  if  you  do  not 
send  her  back  soon  you  will  have  on  your  conscience 
the  separation  of  husband  and  wife,  mother  and  child, 
and  will  have  crooked  things  which  always  ought  to  be 
straight  in  this  world.  It  is  certainly  worth  while  to 
lay  the  blame  to  fate  and  prophecies  and  rings,  and 
other  poor  superstitions,  when  the  legitimate  arrange- 
ment of  God  and  man  is  not  heeded.  And  that  is  the 
way  it  was  in  this  case.  I  wonder,  cousin,  what  you 
have  to  object  against  that  ?  " 

"  May  I  now  be  allowed  to  express  my  opinion  ? " 
gently  inquired  the  Surgeon. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  do  so,  cousin.  I  am  curi- 
ous to  hear  you  make  black  into  white." 

"  I  have  said  once  before  that  much  depends  on 
the  timber  of  which  a  person  is  made.  If  he  is  of 
aspen,  he  is  broken  off;  if  he  is  of  willow,  he  can  be 
braided  into  a  carpet;  but  if  he  is  of  birch,  it  happens 
that  he  gives  the  rod  to  his  chastiser.  And  I  think  we 
ought  to  have  seen  of  what  timber  Esther  Larsson  was 
built.  She  came,  truly  not  from  pride,  into  that 
aristocratic  family,  and  found  there  the  strongest  birth 
prejudices  of  her  time  already  as  good  as  full-grown 
in  her  step-children.  Had  she  known  them  rightly, 
she  would  from  the  beginning  have  armed  herself 
against  them,  and  reserved  to  herself  an  individual 
abode  after  the  step-children  had  become  of  age.  But 
she  believed  in  the  power  of  love  to  re-create  the 
world,  and  she  believed  rightly,  only  somev/hat  too 
early,  for  a  new  custom  needs  generations  to  develop. 
She  did  what  great  souls  are  wont  to  do — she  took  no 
precautionary  measures,  and  she  thus  became  depend- 
ent upon  a  prejudice  which  was  stronger  than  her- 
self. This  would  have  been  able  to  disturb  but  not  to 
destroy  her  happiness,  if  she  had  only  had  a  husband 
with  stamina  enough,  for  her  saka  to  defy  prejudices 


MORNING  LIGHT.  183 

and  support  her  with  an  arm  of  iron.  But  Count 
Charles  Victor  Bertelskold  was  as  weak  as  he  was  good. 
In  his  selfish  love  he  was  divided  between  a  wife 
whom  he  adored  and  a  son  whom  he  idolized.  He  did 
not  see  the  deep  chasm  between  the  two;  he  saw  the 
surface  and  measured  not  the  depth,  and  he  did  not 
understand  what  his  wife  suffered.  '  It  is  disagree- 
able,' he  thought,  '  but  it  will  all  come  out  right.  We 
must  not  get  up  scenes  which  will  compromise  us.'  " 

"  What  a  man  !  "  interposed  grandmother.  "  I  had 
supposed  that  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold  was  a  fine 
fellow,  and  now — why,  he  behaves  like  a  perfect  wretch. 
Could  he  not  have  said  to  his  Bertrandus,  or  whatever 
his  name  was:  '  Here  am  I,  boy,  and  here  is  your 
mother;  you  understand  !  My  wish  is  that  you  show 
your  step-mother  all  proper  respect,  and  that  is  the 
end  of  it.'  " 

"And  if  he  had  said  that,"  responded  the  Surgeon, 
"  what  would  he  have  gained  by  it  but  the  same  outer 
appearance  which  he  would  now  gain  with  his  weak 
compliance  ?  But  Countess  Esther  was  one  of  those 
deep  characters  who  are  not  contented  with  appear- 
ance. She  would  have  earnestness  and  truth.  There- 
fore, when  she  saw  that  she  had  been  mistaken  about 
the  power  of  love  to  '  break  walls,'  she  preferred  a 
means  which  was  both  unusual  and  surprising,  violent 
and  painful,  but  such  as  must  also  break  walls,  if  it  lay 
in  human  power.  And  if  she  gained  nothing  else,  she 
at  least  gained  serenity,  she  at  least  cut  off  a  chain 
which  would  otherwise  have  slowly  killed  her.  She  in- 
stantly comprehended  her  whole  situation;  she  could 
not  remain  where  she  was  trodden  under  foot,  con- 
stantly standing  as  a  wall  of  separation  between  father 
and  child,  between  brother  and  brother.  But  if  she 
went  away,  nothing  more  prevented  the  aristocratic 
family  from  again  harmonizing.  Her  husband  was 
weak,  her  own  children  were  young;  the  loss  of  her 
would  pain    but  not  annihilate   them.      The   billows 


1S4.  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

would  close  together  above  her  head,  and  the  sea  would 
again  be  calm." 

"  I  am  so  angry  at  Bernhard,  that  I  want  to  bite 
him  !  "  exclaimed  Anne  Sophie.    "  Poor  Paul !  " 

"  Poor  Vera  !  "  sobbed  Elizabeth  Gret. 

"  Well,  I  prophesy  that  their  mother  will  come  back 
when  she  reflects  on  the  matter;  or  how  is  it,  cousin  ?  " 
asked  grandmother. 

"  How^am  I  to  know  that  ?  "  said  the  Surgeon,  with 
a  nod.     "  It  hardly  looks  so." 

"Well,  Bertrandus  has  got  a  crack  for  his  machina- 
tions; but  as  to  Paul,"  rejoined  grandmother,  "he  seems 
to  be  a  good  young  man,  though  romantic  enough.  To 
let  himself  be  shot  for  his  bad  brother  was  an  odd  idea. 
He  must  have  had  a  dubious  sort  of  training,  judging 
by  the  godless  thoughts  he  at  one  time  had.  He  can 
never  have  had  switchings  enough  over  the  catechism. 
And  Larsson,  the  old  miser, — we  shall  see  that  he  will 
allow  himself  to  be  fooled  by  that  German  doctor  who 
seems  to  me  to  be  an  old  rogue.  How  can  you  try, 
cousin,  to  make  people  believe  that  a  person  can  be  a 
hundred  and  forty  years  old  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  Surgeon,  "  I  relate  only  what 
others  have  believed  before  me.  It  was  just  the  same 
a  hundred  years  ago,  with  the  elixir  of  life  and  the  art 
of  making  gold,  as  with  the  witches  in  the  days  of 
Charles  XI.  At  the  very  time  when  the  new  light  was 
breaking  in,  the  darkness,  for  a  moment,  appeared 
blacker  than  ever.  In  the  time  of  Gustaf  III,  the 
natural  sciences  broke  forth  like  a  new  flush  of  morn- 
ing over  the  world.  It  was  quite  right  that  the  old 
superstition  should  then  flame  up.  It  was  at  the  time 
when  men  knelt  before  Caghostro  more  than  before 
God.  Never  had  alchemy  had  more  zealous  adherents 
than  at  the  very  moment  when  its  better  daughter, 
chemistry,  was  born  to  the  baptism  of  Scheele  and 
Bergman;  and  never  has  humanity  more  earnestly 
sought  an  elixir  of  life,  than  when  Voltaire  and   Hoi- 


MORMING  LIGHT.  185 

bach  were  teaching  that  the  soul  is  a  substance  which 
must  perish  with  the  body." 

"  Godfather,  you  must  tell  us  more  about  the  king  !  " 
interposed  Jonathan,  who  was  not  versed  in  alchemy 
and  chemistry.  "  Some  one  who  sometime  really  saw 
him  close  by  !  " 

"Oh  yes,  this  is  the  way  he  looked,"  said  the  Sur- 
geon, as  he  lifted  the  little  boy  up  by  the  ears,  while 
Janathan  clung  fast  to  his  arms. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    THRALLDOM    OF    MAMMON. 

REPRESENTATIVE  Jonas  Bertila  had  long 
been  wearied  of  the  diet  and  of  the  Swedish 
metropolis.  The  nearer  it  drew  toward  spring,  the 
more  meditatively  did  he  walk  in  leisure  hours,  for  of 
such  he  had  many,  and  look  at  the  blue  sky,  or  the 
frozen  sea,  hear  the  larks  twitter,  and  think  of  his  good 
farm  in  Storkyro,  how  the  rye  blades  were  looking  now 
that  the  snow  had  melted,  whether  the  hands  had 
the  judgment  to  keep  matters  moving  properly  in 
the  grain-fields,  whether  the  horses  were  very  poor  in 
the  spring,  whether  the  cows  and  young  cattle  had  been 
regularly  foddered,  and  if  by  this  time  the  sheep-shear- 
ing had  begun.  At  these  thoughts,  he  drew  a  deep  sigh 
at  all  his  unnecessary  perplexity  with  Hats  and  Caps, 
and  was  greatly  tempted  to  wish  the  time  back  when 
the  peasant  managed  his  plow,  the  burgher  his  vessel, 
and  the  clergyman  his  ciitechism,  while  knights  and 
nobles  sketched  their  family  trees,  and  royal  majesty 
and  the  crown  governed  the  kingdom  according  to  the 
written  law  of  the  country.  So  worn  out  was  he, 
and  many  thousand  others  like  him,  with  liberty — or 
8* 


18G  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

rather  with  the  liberty  of  that  time, — that  for  his  part 
he  would  have  been  glad  to  sell  the  whole  constitution 
for  a  load  of  thrashed-out  chaff,  which  would  at  least 
be  fit  for  the  horses. 

One  fine  afternoon  in  April,  as  he  was  walking 
toward  Roslag's  gate,  brooding  on  these  thoughts,  and 
without  any  definite  goal  for  his  ramble,  he  saw  a  four- 
wheeled  peasant-wagon,  drawn  by  two  horses,  toilsomely 
work  its  way  forward  through  the  bottomless  mud  of 
the  highway.  Foot  by  foot  it  progressed,  after  a  fash- 
ion, until  the  wagon  had  arrived  a  little  distance  inside 
the  town,  where  the  streets  were  lumbered  with  some- 
thing which  was  meant  to  pass  for  a  stone  pavement, 
but  which  might  rather  be  called  the  most  honorable 
town  council's  privileged  arrangements  for  upsetting, 
so  neck -breaking  beyond  all  description  were  the 
greater  number  of  the  streets  of  Stockholm  at  that 
time.  Here  neither  the  driver's  art  nor  the  horses' 
sleepy  pace  availed,  and  the  wagon  lurched  on 
at  random,  between  mountains  and  valleys,  until  an 
unforseen  jerk  of  one  of  the  horses,  which  had  been 
frightened  by  a  boy's  paper  kite,  finally  hastened  the 
catastrophe,  and  the  wagon,  with  a  clumsy  somerset, 
overturned  its  contents  into  the  middle  of  the  street. 

Jonas  drew  nearer,  to  see  if  any  one  might  have 
been  hurt,  and  found  two  old  men,  who  with  their  bun- 
dles and  rags  had  rolled  down  into  a  good-sized  mud- 
puddle,  and  were  with  some  difficulty  climbing  up  on 
dry  land  again. 

"  What  on  earth  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Is  not  this  Uncle 
Lars,  from  Wasa  ?  " 

And  sure  enough,  before  him  stood  a  gaunt,  white- 
haired  old  man,  who  could  be  no  other  than  the  once 
tall  and  stately  merchant,  Lars  Larsson,  father  of  Rep- 
resentative Thomas,  and  brother  of  the  other  represen- 
tative, Bertel  Larsson,  but  who  now,  after  little  more 
than  a  year,  had  shrunken  to  an  odd,  hump-backed, 
bow-legged  figure,  beneath  whose  large  brown   seal- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  187 

skin  cap  a  pair  of  keen  gray  eyes  furtively  and  rest- 
lessly glanced  around  him.  Instead  of  answering  the 
question,  that  living  mummy  hastened  to  pick  up  from 
the  street  various  objects  spilled  in  capsizing,  such  as  a 
couple  of  loaves  of  coarse  bread,  a  pair  of  ragged 
leather  gloves,  and  a  wooden  bottle  of  sour  milk,  while 
with  anxious  care  he  satisfied  himself  that  a  large 
traveling  trunk  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  had  suf- 
fered no  injury  in  the  overturning  In  this,  he  was  not 
assisted  by  his  companion,  a  man  of  singular,  foreign 
appearance,  who,  both  in  years  and  strength,  seemed  to 
be  considerably  younger,  but  who  with  a  look  of  indif- 
ferent contempt  awaited  the  moment  when  he  could 
again  take  his  place  in  the  wagon  and  continue  his 
journey. 

"Do  you  no  longer  recognize  me,  uncle?"  con- 
tinued the  young  representative.  "  I  am  Jonas  Bertila, 
and  will  be  glad  to  show  you  the  way  to  Thomas's, 
uncle,  in  case  you  would  not  rather  take  up  quarters 
with  Provost  Bertel." 

"  I  don't  know,  don't  know  the  evil  world,"  re- 
plied the  bowed,  old  man.  "  I  am  a  poor  man,  a  mis- 
erably poor  old  man,  who  cannot  afford  to  live  with 
such  grand  gentlemen." 

'*  Drive  on  !  "  said  the  other  traveler  to  the  team- 
ster, not  at  all  desirous,  it  would  seem,  of  making  any 
new  acquaintances  upon  his  entry  into  Stockholm. 

The  wagon  began  once  more  to  move  on,  but  so 
slowly  that  Jonas  could  without  difficulty  follow  it  at  a 
little  distance.  "  Can  uncle  have  gone  crazy  in  his 
old  age  ?  "  thought  he  to  himself.  "  I  will  see  where 
they  stop." 

The  road  was  long  enough,  for  the  wagon  did  not 
stop  until  it  had  gone  a  long  distance  into  the  south- 
ern suburb,  but  Jonas  was  persistent,  and  observed  the 
house.  It  was  a  kind  of  barber-shop,  whose  occupants 
carried  on  several  kindred  industries,  such  as  bleeding, 
cupping  for  baf^k-ache,  pulling  teeth,  doctoring  horses 


188  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

for  the  spavin,  and  selling  essentia  dukis  as  a  uni- 
versal remedy  for  all  evils  of  both  body  and  soul. 

Jonas  had  plenty  of  time,  and  took  a  walk  to  Tegel- 
vik.  After  an  hour  he  returned,  and  went  into  the 
barber-shop  to  buy  essentia  diilcis. 

"You  have  travelers  from  a  distance?"  said  he, 
after  having  paved  the  way  for  the  question  with  a  lib- 
eral fee. 

The  barber's  man,  who  was  standing  at  the  coun- 
ter, nodded  mysteriously. 

"  Is  it  a  doctor  ?  " 

The  barber's  man  nodded. 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  him  about  a  cure  for  pain  in 
the  back,"  continued  Jonas,  as  for  safety's  sake  he 
further  bought  a  bottle  of  Hjarne's  Legacy. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  barber's  man. 

Jonas  entered  a  low,  dilapidated  room,  and,  in  the 
room  adjoining,  heard  old  Larsson's  voice. 

"  Six  shillings  a  day  for  lodging  and  board  !  "  grum- 
bled the  old  man.  "  Six  shillings  !  Are  you  crazy, 
man  ?  I  shall  be  impoverished  by  such  extravagance. 
My  good  people,  I  am  a  poor  man, — I  cannot  afford  to 
keep  any  attendants.  Does  not  some  young  gentle- 
man live  here  who  needs  a  boot-black  or  clothes- 
brusher  ?  I  will  serve  him  for  a  reasonable  price.  Tell 
him  I  will  run  errands  for  three-pence  apiece,  though 
I  shall  wear  out  four-pence  in  soles.  But  a  poor  beg- 
gar like  me  cannot  reckon  so  nicely.  I  know  Stock- 
holm. I  will  bring  him  the  newspapers  every  morning, 
and  carry  love-letters  for  a  little  pin-money  now  and 
then." 

"  No  one  lives  here  except  the  master  and  his  man," 
the  servant-girl  was  heard  to  reply  to  whatever  woful 
ditty  was  presented. 

"  Well,  then  tell  the  master  that  I  will  work  as  a 
servant  for  my  board  and  lodging.  I  shaL'  be  content 
with  herring  and  bread,  and  a  cup  of  water  a  day,  an.," 
cannot  afford  to  wear  out  linen  on  the  bed.     I  will  saw 


MORNING  LIGHT.  189 

the  master's  wood,  and  serve  his  customers,  for  a  Httle 
pin-money  now  and  then.  The  young  gentlemen  who 
get  shaved  will  pity  a  poor  wretch  who  has  thrown 
everything  he  has  on  the  highway  to  pay  the  expense 
of  this  costly  journey  to  Stockholm." 

"  Well,  what  have  you  there  in  that  large,  heavy 
chest? "  asked  the  girl,  in  a  pert  tone. 

"  I  ?"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  perceptibly  alarmed. 
"  What  have  I  ?  Nothing,  dear  child,  nothing.  What 
should  I  have  except  old  clothes  and  books,  which  I 
intend  to  sell  in  Stockholm  to  get  me  the  necessaries 
of  life." 

"  I  thought  it  was  money,"  the  girl  was  heard  to 
say  in  the  same  tone. 

"  Heaven  preserve  me,  how  sinfully  you  talk  !  " 
responded  the  old  man  in  a  pitiful  tone.  "  From 
where  should  such  a  Lazarus  as  I  get  money  ?  My 
good  girl,  if  you  are  a  Christian  being,  then  tell  me 
how  I  can  earn  twelve  shillings  a  week, — it  will  be  a 
work  of  compassion  for  which  I  shall  praise  you  as 
long  as  I  live.  Money  !  Bless  us,  how  you  do 
talk  !  " 

"  Swear  to  that,"  said  the  girl,  rallying  him. 

"  I  swear  by  my  soul's  salvation,  yes,  I  swear  by 
heaven  and  earth,  my  good  girl,  that  there  is  nothing 
but  rags  and  books  in  that  old  trunk,"  responded 
Larsson,  with  visible  anxiety.  "  Money  !  I  swear  that 
I  have  nothing  but  the  rags  on  my  back,  poor,  wretched, 
impoverished  man  that  I  am  !  The  poorest  pauper  of 
Stockholm  is  richer  than  I  am,  my  good  girl  !  " 

"  Well,  then  of  course  I  must  believe  you,"  snapped 
the  girl,  as  she  slipped  out  through  the  door. 

Jonas  shuddered,  and  hesitated  whether  he  should 
make  himself  known.  To  this  length,  then,  had 
avarice  led  that  old  man,  who,  his  whole  Ufe  through, 
had  been  gathering  treasure  upon  treasure,  and  had 
surely  not  come  to  Stockholm  on  any  other  errand  than 
further  to  increase  that  mammon  which  had  become  at 


190  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

once  his  idol  and  his  scourge.  But  before  Jonas  had 
as  yet  formed  his  resolution,  he  heard  in  the  inner 
room  the  voice  of  another  man,  who  had  hitherto  been 
mute,  and  in  whom  he  believed  he  recognized  his  un- 
cle's traveling  companion. 

"  You  have  sworn  a  false  oath,"  said  the  other 
voice.  "  In  the  traveling  trunk  you  have  eighteen 
thousand  rix-dollars  in  coined  gold,  and  thirty  thou- 
sand in  bullion  gold." 

"  I  ?  My  dear  friend,  let  us  not  speak  about  that, 
let  us  talk  about  our  business,"  said  Larsson.  "  We 
have  come  to  Stockholm  to  get  ingredients  for  our 
great,  our  divine  art.  We  must  not  waste  a  moment. 
Every  day  costs  us  at  least  a  thousand  rix-dollars  which 
we  might  make  by  transmuting  iron  to  gold.  A  thou- 
sand rix-dollars, — that  is  an  awful  amount  of  money  ! 
We  shall  be  impoverished  by  waiting  an  hour  longer." 

"  But  now  you  have  sworn  a  false  oath,  and  do  you 
know  what  that  means  ?"  rejoined  the  other. 

"  There,  there,  dear  friend,  that  is  one  way  of  talk- 
ing. To-morrow  I  will  put  a  plat  in  the  poor-box. 
The  Lord  will  not  make  up  his  account  so  very  pre- 
cisely with  a  poor  wretch  who  happens  to  mis-speak 
himself  in  an  allowable  and  pardonable  lie  of  necessity." 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    CONSTELLATION  OF  THE    I4TH   OF  JANUARY, 
I318. 

THE  singular  stranger,  who  in  this  manner  talked 
to  old  Larsson  like  his  evil  conscience,  now 
cautiously  opened  the  door,  to  see  if  there  was  any 
one  in  the  outer  room.  But  the  door  opened  outward, 
and  concealed  Jonas  Bertila,  who  was  sitting  behind 


MORNING  LIGHT.  191 

it.  He  remained  unobserved,  and  did  not  make 
known  his  presence.  It  was  no  trouble  for  him  to 
listen,  and  he  regarded  it  as  a  duty,  the  more  so  as 
he  now  remembered  that  the  stranger  could  be  no 
other  than  the  alchemist  and  miracle-doctor,  Martin 
Weis,  who  at  Larsson's  request  had  the  last  summer 
accompanied  the  old  man  from  Abo  to  Wasa. 

What  had  induced  Doctor  Weis  for  a  whole  year 
to  bury  himself  and  his  art  far  up  in  a  provincial  town 
of  the  north  ?  Jonas  had,  indeed,  heard  a  report  that 
he  robbed  and  deluded  old  Larsson  with  his  pretended 
art  of  making  gold;  but  he  now  found  that  Larsson 
brought  with  him  a  whole  trunk  full  of  that  precious 
metal.  If  Doctor  Weis  was  the  rascal  and  deceiver 
that  many  represented  him,  what  could  have  hindered 
him,  who  was  younger,  stronger  and  craftier  than  the 
old  miser,  from  murdering  and  robbing  him  during  the 
long  journey  around  Norrbotten  ?  Both,  however, 
had  arrived  here  safe  and  sound,  and,  as  it  seemed, 
in  a  state  of  harmony.  Jonas  was  curious  to  get  an 
explanation  of  this  enigma. 

He  soon  understood  that  Doctor  Weis,  with  all  his 
caution,  was  not  omniscient.  The  wonder-worker  did 
not  suspect  that  behind  that  thin  door  he  had  an 
unknown  listener,  who  did  not  lose  a  word  of  the  con- 
versation in  however  low  a  voice  it  was  carried  on 
between  the  two  traveling  companions. 

"  I  have  now  served  you  more  than  a  half-year," 
said  the  doctor.  "  I  have  carried  out  your  wishes  and 
transmuted  for  you  eleven  lispunds  of  iron  to  gold. 
That  which  you  carry  with  you  in  your  trunk  is  but  a 
small  part  of  your  treasures,  for  the  most  of  it  you 
have  buried,  or  walled  in,  in  Wasa,  and  I  have  not 
asked  you  where  .  .  .  .  " 

"  For  God's  sake,"  stammered  Larsson,  "  think 
what  you  are  saying!  What  if  the  walls  had  ears?  I, 
poor  man,  have  nothing,  nothing  at  all !  Where  should 
I  have  buried  so  much  money  ?  " 


192  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  That  is  true,"  calmly  continued  the  doctor;  "  you 
are  poor,  miserably  poor;  yes,  poorer,  with  all  your 
gold,  than  the.  beggar  who  in  his  poverty  still  has  the 
heart  to  sing  when  he  has  eaten  his  fill.  You  are 
poorer  than  the  most  wretched  pauper,  for  he  can  at 
least  sleep  and  forget,  but  that  you  cannot  do.  You 
are  poorer  than  the  dog  which  is  made  happy  by  a 
bone  on  the  dust-heap,  for  the  dog  can  growl  when  he 
is  struck,  but  you  caress  the  hand  that  boxes  your  ear, 
because  that  "hand  reaches  you  gold.  You  are  so 
wretched  that  if  I  were  your  worst  enemy,  and  had 
wished  to  strike  you  out  of  the  book  of  humanity,  I 
should  not  have  had  the  power  to  sink  you  lower  in 
the  depth  of  misfortune  and  degradation.  I  am  not 
your  friend,  for  if  I  were  I  should  not  have  thrown 
gold-piece  after  gold-piece  into  your  insatiable  mouth, 
and  by  that  means  made  you  still  thirstier.  But 
neither  am  I  your  enemy,  for  why  should  I  hate  such 
a  pitiable  being  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  despise  you? 
Friendship  and  enmity  signify  to  me  less  than  nothing. 
I  neither  hate  nor  love  any  mortal.  My  way  goes  far 
above  the  heads  of  humanity,  and  I  look  down  on 
mankind  as  wanderers  through  the  forest  look  at  the 
course  of  the  ants  between  the  fallen  and  withered 
pine-needles.  There  was  something,  however,  which 
bound  me  to  such  a  miserable  slave  as  you.  Has  it 
not  surprised  you  that  I  have  never  asked  any  recom- 
pense for  my  trouble?  " 

"  Recompense  ?  "  exclaimed  Larsson,  with  a  start. 
"  What  should  I,  poor  man,  be  able  to  offer  you  other 
than  my  gratitude,  my  admiration  ?  " 

"What  do  I  care  about  your  gratitude  and  your 
admiration  ?  When  the  day  comes  that  j'ou  no  longer 
need  me,  you  will  wish  me  where  pepper  grows." 

"  But  you  do  not  mean  to  desert  me  ?  It  is  im- 
possible, doctor;  we  have  still  so  much  undone!  After 
we  have  procured  new  ingredients  we  shall  make 
mountains  of  gold,  shall  we  not  ?     And  you  shall  have 


MORNING  LIGHT.  193 

a  fair  share,  doctor  !  We  will  draw  up  the  contract. 
You  shall  have  ten  per  cent,  for  you  see  I  advance 
the  money,  and  you  are  my  partner  !  What  do  you 
say  to  that,  doctor  ?  Is  it  not  a  good  business  ?  Ten 
per  cent — that  is  a  handsome,  a  large  fee,  and  per- 
haps— perhaps,  if  you  are  really  industrious,  you  shall 
have — eleven  per  cent !  "  added  the  old  man,  with  a 
deep  sigh  over  his  own  liberality. 

"  And  what  would  hinder  my  taking  ninety-nine 
per  cent,  and  leaving  to  you  what  the  iron  is  worth  ?  " 
mockingly  rejoined  the  doctor. 

"'  Oh,  you  cannot  do  that,  my  dear  sir  doctor!  You 
cannot  in  that  way  cheat  a  poor  old  man  who  has 
shown  you  so  much  confidence.  But  if  you  will  not 
agree  for  less,  then — you  shall  have  twelve  per  cent !  " 

"  Listen  to  me  !  If  you  still  have  a  spark  of  sound 
sense  in  your  dried-up  brain,  you  ought  to  understand 
that  gold  is  of  no  consequence  to  me.  What  hinders 
my  paving  the  streets  of  Stockholm  with  that  metal  if 
I  so  choose  ?  You  have  something  which  is  now  with- 
out significance  to  you,  but  which  is  worth  more  to  me 
than  all  the  gold  the  earth  contains.  That  is  what  I 
now  ask  as  a  recompense  for  my  long  labor,  and  you 
can  yourself  decide  what  you  will  still  have  me  do  for 
you." 

''What  can  it  be?  "asked  the  old  man,  anxiously 
curious.  "Is  it  my  youngest  daughter,  Kathrina? 
Take  her,  doctor,  take  her  !  She  shall  be  yours  if  you 
will  promise  me,  let's  see — eleven  more  lispunds.  That 
is  to  say,  eleven  lispunds  this  year,  and  afterward  just 
as  much  every  year; — or  what  do  you  think  yourself  ? " 

"  Look  at  the  usurer  !  He  is  ready  to  sell  his  own 
child  !  But  calm  yourself;  I  think  quite  as  little  of 
women  as  of  gold.  Can  I  not  in  my  crucibles  make 
me  the  fairest  woman  on  which  the  sun  has  shown 
since  the  days  of  our  mother  Eve  ?  But  I  despise  such 
playthings.     I  ask  something  else." 

"  You  spoke  once  about  my  soul,"  replied  Larsson, 
9  N 


194  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

trembling  at  the  thought  of  losing  his  ally.  "  It  is  a 
sinful  bargain,  doctor,  but  perhaps — we  might  come  to 
an  agreement." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  That  I  can  easily  believe," 
said  he.  "  You  would  be  willing  to  sell  your  soul  for 
a  false  ducat.  But  now  if  I  were  the  evil  one  himself, 
of  what  use  would  it  be  to  buy  such  a  miserable  com- 
modity, which  in  any  case  belongs  to  me  ?  I  am  not 
the  evil  one;  I  am  a  man,  like  you,  or  rather,  more 
than  you,  for  you  are  only  the  dried-up  shell  of  a 
human  being.  I  will  be  honest  with  you,  for  this  hour 
is  decisive.     Do  you  understand  me?" 

"  I  will  try  ...  ." 

"  I  am  simply  a  man,  who  has  made  it  the  study  of 
his  life  to  penetrate  into  the  secrets  of  nature,  though 
not  like  \}:\t.  savants  oi  the  present,  who  prick  only  into 
trifling  phenomena,  and  are  blind  to  the  mysterious 
powers  which  govern  the  universe.  As  you  know,  I 
have  been  successful  in  one  thing  and  another,  but  I 
still  lack  one  means  of  swaying  the  influence  of  the 
stars.  I  have  read  in  my  compasses  that  once  every 
five  hundred  years  a  conjunction  of  the  three  most 
powerful  planets,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn,  occurs,  and 
a  talisman  forged  under  that  constellation  is  able 
through  their  united  power  to  govern  all  the  other 
planets.  But  that  constellation  lasts  only  eight  min- 
utes, fourteen  seconds,  forty-nine  tierces,  and  not  a 
tierce  more  or  less  must  be  consumed  in  the  forging. 
On  account  of  the  difficulty  of  being  thus  prepared  at 
the  decisive  moment,  and  then  industriously  making 
use  of  it,  only  one  such  talisman  has  ever  been  forged 
by  man,  and  that  must  have  happened  when  the  con- 
junction last  occurred,  the  fourteenth  of  January,  131 8, 
at  three  o'clock  and  twent5'-eight  minutes  in  the  after- 
noon. My  circles  have  told  me  that  that  powerful 
emanation  of  the  planets  still  exists,  and  my  star  com- 
pass has  told  me  that  it  must  be  somewhere  in  the 


MORNING   LIGHT.  195 

north.  That  is  the  reason  why  I  set  Out  from  Sicily, 
where  I  made  the  discovery,  to  Finland." 

Here  the  doctor  paused,  and  afterward  continued: 

"  I  came  to  Abo,  and  in  vain  sought  for  the  rare 
jewel.  The  common  people  looked  upon  me  as  a 
magician,  and  the  learned  regarded  me  as  a  charlatan. 
What  did  I  care  for  that?  I  sought  but  did  not  find. 
The  compass  gave  me  to  understand  that  the  young 
fop  Bertelskold  stood  in  some  relation  to  the  jewel.  I 
sifted  him,  but  found  myself  deceived.  One  day  my 
compass  became  wonderfully  restless,  and  immediately 
afterward  it  stood  still.  Then  I  understood  that  what 
I  sought  was  to  be  found  with  some  person  in  my  vi- 
cinity, and  at  the  same  moment  you  entered.  But  you 
had  not  the  jewel  with  you,  you  had  it  m  Wasa.  That 
is  the  reason  why  I  went  with  you,  and  served  you,  and 
loaded  you  with  gold.  I  now  demand  my  recom- 
pense." 

"  How  should  I,  poor  man,  be  able  to  own  such  a 
powerful  thing?  "  whispered  Larsson. 

"Think  not,"  continued  the  doctor,  "that  I  have 
forgotten  to  make  myself  well-informed.  An  announce- 
ment in  the  churches  by  Count  Bertelskold  led  me  fur- 
ther on  the  track,  and  I  now  know  all.  Twenty  years 
ago  you  allowed  yourself  to  steal  a  ring  from  a  young 
student  of  Abo.  It  was  that  ring  which  I  have  sought 
through  half  the  world.  It  was  that  ring  which  was  forged 
on  the  fourteenth  of  January,  131S,  at  three  o'clock  and 
twenty  eight  minutes  in  the  afternoon,  under  the  united 
influence  of  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn,  and  whose  might 
has  been  further  strengthened  by  Finnish  witchcraft 
and  the  wonder-working  power  of  the  saints.  For  two 
hundred  years  it  was  worn  on  the  finger  of  an  image 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  but  when  the  images  were  destroy- 
ed it  came  into  individual  hands,  and  has  since  been  in 
the  possession  now  of  the  Bertelskolds,  and  now  of 
others,  everywhere  with  the  same  astonishing  power, 
which   no   one,  however,  has   as   yet  understood  how 


196  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

fully  to  use.  All  the  fools  who  have  worn  it  have 
sought  by  it  only  their  own  happiness,  and  you  your- 
self have  used  it  to  heap  treasure  upon  treasure,  while 
its  power  over  nature  is  still  seven-fold  stronger  than 
over  man.  In  short,  that  ring  you  must  give  up  to 
me  !  " 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  replied  Larsson,  with  unex- 
pected decision.     "  Ask  something  else  !  " 

"You  cannot?"  sharply  responded  the  doctor. 
"  You  do  not  know,  then,  that  that  ring  is  irreparably 
lost  by  perjury,  and  only  by  perjury?  Why  do  you 
suppose  I  have  for  years  patiently  waited  for  the  time 
when  you  might  forfeit  the  power  of  your  talisman  ? 
Why  have  I  not  been  able  to  steal  it  from  you  as  you 
had  stolen  it  from  another?  Because  you  had  been 
wary.  But  to-day  you  have  sworn  falsely,  and  now  my 
hour  is  come.  Now  you  must  give  me  the  ring.  Do 
you  understand?     It  must  be  done." 

"  Never  I  "  cried  Larsson. 

''What,  miserable  slave!  you  venture  to  defy  the 
ruler  of  the  elements!  "  burst  out  the  doctor,  as  he 
seized  the  old  man  by  the  throat. 

"  Help!  Help!  "  shrieked  Larsson  in  a  stifled  voice. 

Jonas  Bertila  delayed  no  longer.  He  burst  open 
the  door,  rushed  in,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  two 
combatants,  when,  after  a  violent  struggle,  the  younger 
and  stronger  man  at  last  conquered.  Pale  with  rage, 
the  doctor  was  obliged  to  let  go  his  hold,  and  with 
threats  hurried  away. 

"  Come,  I  will  take  you  to  your  son  Thomas,"  said 
Bertila,  lifting  up  the  almost  helpless  old  man,  who, 
scarcely  able  to  speak,  still  whispered,  "  My  trunk!  my 
trunk  !  " 

Jonas  stooped  down,  and  picked  up  from  the  floor 
a  faintly  gleaming  object. 

It  was  the  king's  ring. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  197 


CHAPTER    III. 

IN  THE   HUNTING-LODGE  AT  BRUNSWICK. 

THE  beautiful  park  of  Stockholm,  the  Zoological 
Garden,  so  carefully  tended,  so  widely  visited, 
and  adorned  with  villas  and  summer  residences,  was 
as  yet,  in  the  beginning  of  Gustaf  Hi's  reign,  a  per- 
fectly wild  and  wretched  hunting-ground,  of  which 
only  the  south-western  shore,  or  the  so-called  town  of 
the  Zoological  Garden,  with  the  dock-yard,  was  built 
up  with  little  tenements  belonging  to  the  admiralty.  In 
all  the  rest  of  the  extensive  park,  only  here  and  there 
was  seen  a  little  red-painted  wooden  house,  occupied 
by  the  huntsmen,  and  shaded  by  the  rustic  beauty  of 
oaks  and  lindens. 

One  of  those  secluded  dwellings,  with  a  view  toward 
Brunswick,  was  situated  about  where  now  the  castle  of 
Rosendal,  with  its  large  porphyries,  looks  down  upon 
graveled  walks  and  circular  flower-borders.  Here 
lived  one  of  the  huntsmen  of  the  park,  with  the  title  of 
court-hunter,  by  the  name  of  Grenman,  a  son  of  the  old 
book-keeper  and  functionary  of  the  Larsson  house  in 
Wasa.  Court-Hunter  Grenman  was  a  good-natured 
and  faithful  man,  like  his  father,  and  had  not  forgotten 
that  it  was  the  old  burgher  king  who  had  made  his  for- 
tune betimes,  by  recommending  him  in  his  young  days 
to  a  place  in  the  hunting  service,  where  he  had  after- 
ward advanced  to  his  present  important  position.  So 
when  one  fine,  spring  day  a  badly  wounded  young  man 
by  the  name  of  Paul  Bertelskold  was  brought  to  his 
dwelling,  he  was  heartily  glad  to  be  able  at  last  to  re- 
pay some  part  of  his  debt  of  gratitude. 

That  young  guest  had  in  the  beginning  given  him 


198  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

much  anxiety,  for,  as  the  ball  could  not  be  extracted, 
the  surgeon  gave  up  all  hope.  But  fortunately  there 
was  another  person,  who  was  both  tenderer  and  stout- 
er-hearted, and  who  would  not  at  all  allow  herself  to 
be  persuaded  that  at  nineteen  years  of  age  one  can  die 
of  such  a  trifling  thing  as  a  ball,  which  had  only  injured 
a  lobe  of  the  right  lung,  and  remained  un-extracted 
near  the  spine.  It  was  the  same  "  Mora  from  Ostanlid," 
who  had  already,  in  the  peasant-hut  near  Solna,  taken 
charge  of  the  wounded  young  man,  and  who  now, 
since  the  surgeon  had  been  politely  dismissed  with  a 
suitable  fee  for  his  trouble  and  his  silence,  had  alone 
taken  upon  herself  the  responsibility  and  charge  of  the 
young  man's  restoration. 

The  court  hunting-master  soon  perceived  to  his  de- 
light that  his  patient  could  not  have  fallen  into  better 
hands.  Mora  from  Ostanlid  was  no  tyro  in  the  art. 
No  practicing  surgeon  could  more  skillfully  than  she 
apply  a  bandage  or  quiet  a  wound  fever,  and  no  pupil 
of  Esculapius  could  compare  with  her  in  unwearying 
attention  to  the  least  wishes  of  the  patient.  For  the  first 
week,  she  watched  day  and  night  by  his  bed,  and  not 
until  after  the  ninth  day,  when  the  danger  was  past 
and  the  wound  began  rapidly  to  heal,  did  she  grant 
herself  a  few  moments'  rest  on  a  mattress  at  the  side 
of  hQX  prote'g^. 

And  with  what  tenderness,  with  what  unspeakable 
gratitude,  did  the  young  man's  eyes  then  rest  on  Mora 
from  Ostanlid  !  Those  who  think  that  a  young  man's 
love  can  never  with  the  whole  heart  attach  itself  to  an 
elderly  woman  are  much  mistaken.  There  is  no  love 
more  heartfelt  or  pure  than  that  with  which  Paul  Ber- 
telskold  rewarded  the  same  feeling  with  his  gentle 
nurse,  and  if  ever  on  earth  glows  a  reflex  of  that  love 
with  which  the  angels  of  heaven  love  each  other,  then 
it  must  be  such  an  unspotted,  self-denying,  all-enno- 
bling love  between — mother  and  son. 

For  why  should  we  conceal  what  the   reader  has 


MORNING  LIGHT.  199 

probably  long  suspected  ?  Who  but  a  mother  could 
with  that  tender,  that  all-foreseeing  watchfulness  follow 
the  steps  of  an  inexperienced,  enthusiastic,  hot-headed 
youth  ?  Who  but  a  cast-off,  crushed  woman  could  find 
her  delight  and  comfort  in  such  a  reunion  ?  Who  but 
"  Esther  Larsson,  once  Countess  Bertelskold,"  could  in 
that  way  devote  her  whole  affection  to  her  sole  remain- 
ing darling,  her  heart's  child,  her  Paul  ? 

There  was  one  other  woman  who  was  straying  rest- 
lessly about  in  search  of  his  foot-prints,  but  her  love 
was  built  of  different  timber. 

There  was  one  moment  in  that  lonely  hunting- 
lodge,  which  Countess  Esther  had  at  once  fearea  and 
longed  for,  and  that  was  the  moment  when  Paul  should 
for  the  first  time  recognize  his  mother. 

During  the  whole  nine  days  she  had  made  the  great 
sacrifice  of  carefully  concealing  her  face  from  him,  and 
remaining  unrecognizable  in  her  peasant  costume,  for 
fear  that  the  joy  and  surprise  might  kill  him  in  her 
arms.  Dunng  those  nine  days,  without  a  suspicion  as 
to  who  was  his  nurse,  he  had  received  medicine  from 
her  trembling  hand,  and  with  emotions  of  gratitude 
been  witness  to  her  increasing  care.  He  felt  an  inex- 
plicable affection  for  this  unknown  peasant  woman, 
who  continually  wore  her  black  cloth  drawn  down  so 
low  across  the  forehead,  and  who  never  had  any  other 
answer  to  his  questions  than  a  silent,  friendly  nod. 
But  one  day  when  she  was  sitting  on  a  footstool  by  his 
bed,  and  believed  him  to  be  sleeping,  she  had  then, 
wearied  out  by  over-work  and  watching,  leaned  her 
head  against  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her  eyelids,  against 
her  will,  had  closed,  and  unconsciously  she  had  fallen 
asleep.  Paul  was  not  asleep.  For  awhile  he  had  re- 
garded her  in  silent  surprise,  then  he  had  softly  pushed 
the  black  cloth  away  from  her  forehead,  to  see  for  once 
who  that  mysterious  woman  was,  to  whom  he  was 
indebted  for  his  life, — and  the  longer  he  looked  upon 
those  pale  but  beautiful  features,  and  the  closed  eye- 


200  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

lids  with  their  black  silken  lashes,  the  higher  had 
swelled  a  warm  wave  as  it  were  around  his  heart,  his 
tears  had  begun,  like  a  brimful  fountain,  to  stream  out 
from  their  concealed  deep,  and  he  had  put  both  his 
arms  around  the  neck  of  the  unknown  but  now  recog- 
nized sleeping  woman.  Then  she  had  awakened,  then 
her  two  dark  eyes,  which  Paul  in  his  childhood  had  so 
greatly  admired,  and  which  to  his  taste  had  not  their 
equal  in  all  the  wide  world, — those  two  shining  suns 
had  all  at  once  come  out  of  the  cloud,  and  looked  at 
him  with  an  unutterable  love, — and  then  mother  and 
son,  after  long  years  of  pain  and  separation,  were  once 
more  folded  in  each  other's  arms.  Such  moments  can 
never  be  forgotten;  they  belong  to  eternity,  and  can 
never  be  effaced  from  memory,  either  in  this  life  or  the 
next. 

Then  the  mother  had  at  last,  with  gentle  force,  put 
her  son  from  her,  and  covered  his  brow  with  kisses,  and 
compelled  him  to  seek  rest  and  calm,  and  Paul  had 
once  more  fallen  asleep,  with  the  happiest  feeling  he 
had  ever  known.  What  henceforth  signified  his  tran- 
sient physical  pain  ?  Everything  now  was  again  well, 
now  he  again  had  his  mother,  now  he  was  not  alone, 
now  she  was  not  alone  in  the  world,  now  he  should 
nevermore  be  separated  from  her,  now  he  could  have 
her  his  whole  life  to  make  her  happy.  And  Paul 
blessed  the  ball  which  had  gone  so  near  his  heart,  only 
to  bring  it  so  great  a  joy;  he  even  felt  grateful  to  his 
cruel  brother,  without  whose  unlovely  conduct  he 
should  not  have  enjoyed  the  blessedness  of  this  re- 
union. 

The  day  following,  mother  and  son  had  regained 
sufficient  composure  to  open  their  hearts  to  each  other, 
and  mutually  relate  everything  which  had  occurred  dur- 
ing their  separation.  Paul's  story  was  candid,  and 
without  any  reservation;  but  his  mother  could  not  be 
equally  frank.  In  her  story  she  was  obliged  to  shield 
a  weak  father  and  a  heartless  brother, — and  she  did  it 


MORNING  LIGHT.  201 

with  such  a  subtle  dehcacy  that  at  last  the  whole  blame 
of  her  sorrows  paused  at  the  powerful  prejudices  of 
the  time,  and  the  differences  of  rank  which  as  yet  the 
individual  tried  in  vain  to  defy  and  break  down. 

"  What  blind,  weak  beings  are  we  all !  "  said  she. 
"Why  should  we  attempt  perfection  on  earth?  The 
time  will  come,  my  Paul,  when  no  human  being  will  by 
birth  be  better  or  worse  than  others,  and  when  no  other 
nobility  shall  exist  than  a  man's  or  woman's  own  human 
worth.  But  that  insight  bears  within  itself  alone  a 
whole  new  period;  and  why  should  we  complain  that 
the  tall  oak  does  not  instantly  stand  full-grown,  when 
we  see  its  seed  take  root  in  the  earth  at  our  feet  ? 
Many  tears  are  yet  to  flow,  and  many  sighs  to  be  sent 
up  to  heaven,  before  the  prejudices  of  rank  have  dis- 
solved like  the  winter  drifts  in  the  sunshine  of  spring. 
Let  us  with  patience  bide  a  better  time;  and  you,  my 
Paul,  who  are  a  man,  work,  work  faithfully  for  the 
rights  of  humanity,  and  the  future  is  yours  !  " 

"Yes,  mother,"  replied  Paul,  "I  have  already 
thought  of  that.  In  Up.iala,  I  have  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  young  student  by  the  name  of  Thorild.  If 
you  only  knew  how  often  we  have  talked  on  this  very 
same  subject,  and  how  all  mankind  shall  some  day  be 
free  and  equal  !  .  .  .  .  But  you  have  not  yet  told 
me  anything  about  your  flight  from  Falkby." 

"  Let  us  talk  about  something  pleasanter,"  said  the 
mother,  evasively.  "At  present  I  will  merely  confide 
to  you  that  I  had,  the  previous  evening,  talked  over  my 
flight  with  the  widow  Flinta  and  her  grandson,  over  on 
the  point.  The  boy  rowed  me  across  the  water,  and 
the  rest  I  will  talk  about  some  other  time." 

"  Say,  mother,  now  that  you  have  me  and  I  lave 
you,  shall  we  not  both  return  to  Falkby,  to  Vera  and 
father  ?  " 

Countess  Esther  turned  away.  That  was  something 
on  which  she  could  not  yet  open  her  heart.  She  only 
replied: 


302  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Do  not  talk  so  much,  my  dear  Paul;  it  will  fatigue 
you.  When  you  _get  well  we  can  consult  about  our 
future." 

Paul's  convalescence,  however,  progressed  from  that 
day  with  double  rapidity.  The  ball  still  remained,  but 
the  internal  injuries  were  almost  entirely  healed,  and  he 
received  permission  to  sit  by  the  window  and  look  at 
the  trees  and  meadows,  which  were  beginning  to 
brighten  their  verdure  in  the  spring  sunshine. 

"  I  will  now  leave  you  for  a  few  days,"  said  his 
mother.  "Will  you  promise  me  carefully  to  bear  in 
mind  all  my  directions?  " 

"  Yes,  mother;  but  where  are  you  going  ? " 

"To  another  duty,  of  which  you  shall  afterwards 
know.  God  protect  you,  darling  of  my  heart  [ 
Farewell ! " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    BORDER    OF    ETERNITY. 

IF,  now  that  the  park  was  leafless,  the  gray  mass  of 
towers  and  chimneys  which  away  to  the  west  rep- 
resented Stockholm,  had  been  carefully  scanned  from 
an  attic  window  of  the  little  hunter's  lodge  at  Bruns- 
wick, the  roof  of  that  lofty  house  on  Drottning  Street, 
where  Count  Bernard  Bertelskold  lay  badly  wounded 
in  the  head  by  that  stone  which  an  unknown  hand  had 
thrown  at  him  during  that  riot  in  the  night  nearly  two 
weeks  ago,  might  possibly  have  been  distinguished. 
Every  day  had  the  most  skillful  physicians  of  Stock- 
holm gathered  in  his  parlor  for  consultation;  all  reme- 
dies had  been  resorted  to,  and  still  there  seemed  to  be 
no  improvement.  The  left  eye  was  thought  to  be  lost, 
and,  what  was  worse,  the  contusion  had  produced  such 
a  serious  effect  on  the  brain,  that  the  physicians,  even 


MORNING  LIGHT.  203 

if  his  life  could  be  saved,  thought  they  could  not  fore- 
see anything  but  a  weakness  of  mind  and  an  utter 
debility  of  all  the  mental  faculties.  Gradually  one 
Esculapius  after  another  withdrew,  and  only  the  king's 
body-physician,  at  royal  command,  still  came  to  make 
daily  inquiries  as  to  his  condition,  while  he  prescribed 
some  of  those  remedies  physicians  give  on  such  occa- 
sions, when  they  have  lost  all  hope  and  are  only  trying 
to  keep  up  the  courage  of  the  patient  as  long  as  pos- 
sible. 

Count  Bernhard  had  some  political  friends  who, 
from  politeness,  came  to  show  him  their  sympathy. 
Personal  friends  he  had  none,  and  as  even  his  sister, 
Baroness  Clairfeld,  at  that  time  was  obliged  to  leave 
Stockholm,  in  order,  by  the  first  opening  of  navigation, 
to  go  back  to  her  husband  in  Germany,  not  a  single 
one  remained  who  showed  him  any  real  sympathy. 
Jose,  the  valet,  who  had  hitherto  been  his  confidential 
tool,  the  count  could  no  longer  bear;  it  became  neces- 
sary to  dismiss  the  Spaniard  from  the  house,  and  the 
new  domestics,  hired  in  Stockholm,  now  became  the 
only  society  and  nurses  of  the  wounded  man. 

Count  Bernhard  often  suffered  so  intensely  from 
physical  pain  that  he  wished  to  die;  but  more  than 
that  did  he  in  calmer  moments  suffer  from  the  inde- 
scribably disconsolate  feeling  of  being  alone  in  the 
world.  What,  at  such  times,  would  he  not  have  given 
to  be  able  to  buy  one  single  real  friend,  one  single 
hand-pressure  of  affection;  yes,  one  single  sympa- 
thizing word  right  from  the  heart? — but  they  were  not 
for  him!  And  then  that  dark,  bitter  pride  again  won 
the  mastery  over  him,  and,  cursing  God  and  man,  he 
promised  himself  that  if  he  became  well  again  he 
would  be  revenged  on  all  that  cold,  heartless  race 
which  had  abandoned  him  in  his  misfortune.  He 
would  incite  them  against  each  other;  he  would  set  the 
world   aflame,  and    amid    its   desolation,  defiant   and 


204  TLlfES  OF  ALCHEM  Y. 

sneering,  see  that  pitiable  and  despicable  race  destroy 
itself. 

Sleepless  and  suffering,  he  had  one  night  been 
torturing  himself  with  those  wild,  delirious,  feverish 
thoughts.  He  had  asked  the  physician  about  his  con- 
dition, and  received  an  evasive  answer,  from  which  he 
well  understood  that  his  days,  perhaps  hours,  were 
now  numbered.  He  had  thus  not  even  the  consolation 
of  being  revenged.  His  brilliant  career  was  now  to  be 
abruptly  broken  off;  he  was  going  to  die  at  the  hand 
of  a  miserable  assassin,  mourned  by  none,  wept  by 
none,  or  at  most  by  a  father,  who  would  comfort  him- 
self by  the  surv'ivors.  And  who  was  to  be  his  successor 
in  the  inheritance  ?  Paul,  whom  he  hated, — what  a 
humiliation!  His  step-mother,  whom  he  abhorred, — 
what  mockery!  Why  had  he  not  married,  at  least  to 
leave  behind  him  a  son  who  could  dispute  the  rights  of 
these  hated  kinsmen  ?  He  was  only  thirty  years  old  ; 
he  could  still  make  amends  for  that  neglect, — but  no, 
he  had  only  a  few  hours  to  live!  What  if  he  should 
make  use  of  those  hours  to  solemnize  his  marriage  on 
the  sick-bed  ?  ^^'ith  whom  ?  With  any  one  whomso- 
ever. His  widow  would  at  least  give  his  step-mother 
and  Paul  the  vexation  of  sharing  the  inheritance  with 
them.  Where  was  he  quickly  enough  to  get  a  suitable 
countess?  She  must  be  of  high  birth,  that  was  plain; 
she  ought  to  be  able  to  look  down  on  the  plebeian 
blood  which  had  intruded  into  the  family.  But  who 
would  lend  herself  as  an  instrument  of  his  revenge  ? 
His  thoughts  ran  hither  and  thither,  but  found  no  one 
suitable. 

During  these  thoughts  a  trance  of  weakness,  toward 
morning,  stole  over  his  eyelids.  He  was  not  asleep,  he 
was  not  awake,  he  .still  clearly  recognized  every  object 
in  the  room,  and  the  old  hired  nurse,  whose  business  it 
was  to  watch  over  him,  but  who  was  nodding  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.     He  lay  in  that  condition  of  half- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  205 

consciousness  when  a  veil  falls  over  the  activity  of  the 
mind  without  its  altogether  ceasing. 

Then  on  the  green  tapestry  of  the  opposite  wall  he 
saw  a  faint  blue-white  glow,  which  seemed  to  be  a  re- 
flection from  the  faintly  flickering  lamp.  But  if  it  was 
only  a  reflection,  why  did  it  increase,  why  did  it  gradu- 
ally become  clearer,  and  why  did  it  form  itself  more 
and  more  plainly  into  a  human  shape  ?  Count  Bern- 
hard  could  not  turn  his  eyes  away  from  it.  He  was 
not  sufficiently  conscious  to  reflect  upon  it;  it  did  not 
surprise  him,  and  yet  he  had  dwelt  too  long  within  the 
bright  circle  of  the  new  French  philosophy  to  believe 
in  ghosts,  or  in  fact  in  anything  at  all.  Indifferently, 
but  with  unaverted  gaze,  he  watched  the  singular  phe- 
nomenon. 

After  awhile,  the  light  had,  as  it  were,  flowed  to- 
gether into  an  image  of  a  pale,  gentle,  sad  woman,  in 
the  costume  of  a  long-gone  period.  She  floated  away 
from  the  wall,  and  noiselessly  approached  the  bed  of 
the  wounded  man.  She  leaned  over  him,  and  seemed 
to  kiss  his  bandaged  head.  Yet  he  was  not  surprised; 
he  did  not  draw  back;  he  felt  something  like  the 
sweet  breath  of  flowers  sweep  across  his  burning 
temples  and  spread  over  them  a  balmy  coolness. 

Then  he  was  conscious  of  something  like  words, 
but  they  were  not  sounds  which  his  ear  caught,  they 
were  more  like  thoughts  which  inaudibly  passed  into 
his  own  thoughts,  and  thereby  received  an  expression 
which  resembled  words  from  human  lips.  ''  Bernhard 
Bertelskold! "  said  that  pale,  sorrowful  and  gentle 
form;  "I  am  the  maternal  ancestor  of  your  family. 
Why  have  you  so  deeply  grieved  me?" 

Count  Bernhard  did  not  reply.  What  could  he 
answer  ? 

"Know,"  continued  the  phantom,  "that  a  curse 
and  a  blessing  have  from  the  beginning  struggled  for 
the  destiny  of  your  family.  Two  of  your  forefathers 
have  passed  away  from  earth  cursed,  and  two  blessed. 


206  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

The  third  on  wliom  the  curse  rests  is  you;  cmd  lo-day, 
at  the  noontide  hour,  your  time  has  been  appointed 
you.  But  I  have  embraced  our  Saviour's  knees,  and 
in  his  name  prayed  that  you  might  yet  be  given  one 
year  on  earth  for  amendment.  Turn,  turn,  turn  from 
your  sinful  way!  Behold,  the  hand  which  is  to  heal 
you  is  near.  One  year  is  yours,  in  which  to  seek  re- 
conciliation in  heaven  and  on  earth;  but  if  that  year 
goes  by  and  your  soul  is  not  turned  from  darkness  to 
light,  then  shall  darkness  have  its  prey,  and  the  third 
curse  shall  be  fulfilled  on  our  race." 

At  these  words,  the  pale  form  grew  paler  and  more 
transparent,  the  outlines  of  the  figure  seemed  to  lose 
themselves  in  air,  and  soon  only  the  former  faint 
blue-white  light  was  seen  on  the  opposite  wall,  until 
even  that  finally  died  away,  and  only  the  expiring 
lamp  cast  a  faint  glow  over  the  twilight  of  the  room. 

Count  Bernhard  felt  two  opposing  streams  well  up 
from  the  hidden  fountains  of  his  heart.  While  the  old 
sneer  would  steal  forth  on  his  lips,  something  quite 
different  stole  out  from  under  his  eyelashes,  and  it  re- 
sembled something  which  had  never  been  visible  there 
since  the  days  of  his  childhood, — it  resembled  almost 
a  tear.  If  he  had  been  in  clear  consciousness,  he 
would  have  said  to  himself,  "  It  is  from  the  weakness 
of  sickness."  But  now  he  had  not  the  strength  to  be 
angry  at  it;  his  weary  eyes  closed,  and  he  fell  into  a 
real  slumber,  which  lasted  several  hours. 

When  he  awakened,  it  had  been  broad  daylight  for 
some  time,  and  the  doctor  was  standing  by  his  bed.  A 
shadowy  memory  of  the  night's  vision  seemed  to  float 
before  the  wounded  man,  and  he  abruptly  asked: 

"  Is  it  at  noon  to-day  that  I  am  to  die  ?  " 

"  Do  not  disturb  yourself  with  such  thoughts,  my 
dear  lord  count !  "  the  doctor  again  replied,  evasively. 
"We  shall  try  everything  in  the  power  of  art." 

"  Since  your  art  has  so  little  power,"  exclaimed  the 
count  bitterly,  "  it  would  be  more  honest  of  you,   doc- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  207 

tor,  to  tell  me  the  whole  truth.  I  am  a  man,  and  do 
not  fear  death;  so  tell  me  plainly,  how  many  hours  have 
I  to  live  ?" 

"  If  my  lord  count  must  needs  know  it,"  replied  the 
doctor,  "  I  must  confess  that  the  inflammation  is 
increasing.  In  an  hour  you  will  become  delirious, 
never  to  recover  your  reason.  If  you  would  like  to 
order  a  notary  to  draw  your  will,  he  ought  to  be  sum- 
moned quickly." 

"  Well,  wretched  quacks  that  you  all  are,"  responded 
the  wounded  man,  "  since  it  is  still  mine  to  order,  I 
order  you  this  moment  to  go  away.  I  no  longer  need 
you  !  " 

The  physician  shook  his  head,  and,  as  he  went, 
whispered  to  the  nurse:  "  The  raving  has  already  begun. 
It  will  be  safest  for  you  to  send  for  a  strong  man,  for 
he  will  be  hard  to  control." 

The  nurse  departed,  and  the  count  remained  alone, 
"  Go,  I  despise  you  and  all  your  art,  pitiable  braggarts  !" 
cried  he,  after  the  retreating  physician.  ''  I  am  thirty 
j'ears  old,  and  a  miserable  stone  from  the  street  puts 
an  end  to  my  life.  Well,  I  can  despise  life  as  I  despise 
you  all !  I  am  glad  to  make  an  end  of  the  wretched 
farce." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  die,  you  shall  live,"  whis- 
pered a  gentle  voice,  and  beside  him  stood  a  peasant 
woman,  with  a  black  cloth  drawn  down  low  across  the 
forehead. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  asked  the  count,  as  he  remembered 
at  the  same  time  the  vision  of  the  night. 

"  They  call  me  Mora  from  Ostanlid,  and  I  have 
come  to  make  you  well." 


lOS  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  MAN. 

THE  royal  body-physician,  who  had  all  day  vainly 
awaited  the  news  of  Count  Bertelskuld's  ex- 
pected demise,  the  following  morning  could  not  control 
his  curiosity,  and  went  to  the  hotel.  "When  did  the 
count  die  ? "  he  asked  the  nurse  in  the  outer  room. 

"  Serra  tri,"  replied  the  madam,  with  a  toss  of  the 
head;  "he  slept  all  night,  and  has  just  asked  for  a  cup 
of  broth." 

"  Impossible  !  "  responded  the  doctor.  "  According 
to  all  the  rules  of  science,  he  must  have  gone  to  pieces 
last  night  at  latest." 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  said,"  responded  the 
nurse.  "  But  that  is  the  way  it  goes  when  a  man  dis- 
dains the  medicine  of  royal  majesty,  and  gives  himself 
into  the  hands  of  witches." 

"  Aha!  Is  that  the  way  of  it  ?  Then  he  will  noi 
last  till  evening. " 

"  You're  right  about  that.  When  a  person  throws 
all  the  medicine-bottles  out  of  the  window,  and  drives 
the  barber  with  his  lancet  out-doors,  and  wraps  up  a 
sick  head  with  wet  linen  bandages,  what  can  come  of  it 
but  death  ? " 

"  What  is  the  old  witch's  name  ?  " 

"  They  call  her  Mora  from  Ostanlid,  and  she  is  said 
to  have  cured  many  people  whom  the  doctors  had  not 
got  the  better  of.  But  I  think,  those  whom  she  has 
cured  will  get  fleeced  in  the  long  run." 

"That  is  very  probable,"  rejoined  the  body-physi- 
cian, smiling  and  withdrawing,  secretly  not  very  well 
pleased  with  the  many  wise  old  women  who  at   that 


MORNING  LIGHT.  209 

time  presumed  to  cure  or  kill  people  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  doctors. 

It  looked,  however,  as  if  the  body-physician  might 
prove  to  be  right,  as  for  several  days  Count  Bernhard 
hovered  between  life  and  death.  Mora  from  Ostanlid 
had  a  hard  battle  to  fight,  much  harder  than  she  had 
had  with  Paul.  But  in  spite  of  the  unanimous  verdict 
of  the  faculty.  Count  Bernhard  gradually  recovered, 
the  fever  was  allayed,  the  inflammation  was  removed, 
there  was  even  hope  for  the  eye,  and  only  an  excessive 
debility  remained.  That  which  would  not  exactly 
recover  was  his  former  courage.  That  night  when  he 
was  lying  at  the  gate  of  death,  and  saw,  or  thought  he 
saw,  that  strange  vision,  his  austere,  haughty  soul  had 
received  a  heavy  blow.  Those  wonderful,  soundless 
words,  "Turn  !  "  and  "One  year  !  "  had  left  behind 
them  an  echo  which  would  not  altogether  pass  away. 
He  was  angry  at  himself  for  those  childish  fancies 
which  did  not  give  him  any  peace;  but  that  did  not 
avail, — they  lay  continually  before  him. 

"  Mora,"  said  he  impatiently  one  day  to  the  silent, 
black-clad  peasant-woman,  who  with  such  unceasing 
care  had  watched  over  him  night  and  day,  "  when  do 
you  think  I  shall  be  well  ? " 

"  Your  body  will  be  well  at  the  same  time  as  your 
soul,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  What  is  lacking  with 
my  soul  ?" 

"  The  grace  of  God,  which  is  the  soul's  health," 
seriously  replied  the  woman. 

Count  Bernhard  tried  to  laugh,  but  failed.  He  was 
too  weak.  Again  he  recalled  that  fearful  "  Turn  !  " 
and  was  silent.  Something  was  germinating  within 
him,  deep,  deep  beneath  the  ruins  of  his  former  proud 
self-confidence,  but  the  soil  down  there  was  hard  and 
stony,  and  the  seed  would  not  take  root. 

"  Mora,"  said  he  the  next  day,  "  if  you  succeed  in 
9*  O 


210  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

making  me  well,  I  will  make  you  rich.  You  shall  fix 
your  own  fee." 

"  I  ask  nothing,"  was  the  reply. 

"  So  they  all  say,"  rejoined  the  count,  "  but  they  take, 
for  all  that.     Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"  From  Finland." 

"  You  are  of  the  right  sort.  Listen,  Mora, — some- 
where in  Finland  there  is  something  that  can  make  me 
well  faster  than  you  can,  and  that  is  a  poor  old  ring. 
If  you  can  get  me  that,  then — let's  see,  then  I  will — 
marry  you  !  " 

This  was  a  thoughtless  continuation  of  the  sick 
man's  former  ideas,  which  struck  him  for  the  very  reason 
that  it  was  so  bizarre.  But  Mora  from  Ostanlid,  with- 
out any  indication  of  surprise,  asked: 

"  Why  would  you  do  that  ?  " 

*'  Why  ?  Because  it  is  the  fashion  in  my  family.  I 
have  a  step-mother  who  would  be  glad  to  get  you  for  a 
daughter-in-law.  It  is  an  old  rule  that  evil  is  to  be  cast 
out  with  evil — frost-bites  with  snow,  burn-blisters  with 
hot  iron,  and  Finnish  witches  with  Finnish  witches.  Do 
not  scruple  because  you  perhaps  have  seventy  years  on 
your  shoulders  !  The  older  the  better.  It  will  cure  my 
step-mother." 

"  Why  do  you  hate  your  step-mother  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  she  ....  but  that  does  not 
concern  you." 

"  Perhaps  at  this  moment  she  is  praying  for  you  ..." 

"  She  is  too  high-tempered  and  proud  for  that.  She 
hates  me  more  than  I  hate  her.  " 

"  If  you  believe  that,  you  perhaps  do  her  injustice." 

"  No,  there  is  no  one  in  the  world  who  cares  anything 
about  me, — no  one  more  than  you.  Mora  !  My  sister  has 
deserted  me,  my  brother  abhors  me,  and  my  father  .  .  . 
I  have  an  idea.  You  are  too  old  for  me,  but  if  you  will 
get  me  the  ring,  I  will  marry  you  to  my  father.  He  is  not 
very  particular,  and  I  am  used  to  step-mothers." 

"  Think  of  your  soul !  Such  thoughts  are  like  stones 


MORNING  LIGHT.  211 

in  a  loaded  boat,  and  with  such  words  you  will  never 
get  well  !  "  seriously  and  somewhat  sternly  warned  the 
nurse.  She  clearly  saw  that  the  hard  heart  was  far  from 
subdued. 

Again  the  wounded  man  tried  to  laugh,  but  he  could 
not. 

"My head  aches,"  he  moaned. 

As  the  nurse  was  going  out  to  get  some  cold  water, 
she  met,  in  the  outer  room,  a  young  peasant  who  asked 
to  speak  to  the  count. 

"Tell  me  your  errand,  and  I  will  perform  it,"  replied 
Mora  from  Ostanlid. 

"  I  can  comeback  another  time,"  said  the  peasant. 
"  I  wish  to  give  the  count  something  which  has  been 
lost.  " 

"  Is  it  a  ring  ?"  asked  the  peasant-woman  with  that 
sudden  inspiration  which  was  so  characteristic  of  her. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  ring,"  said  the  peasant,  surprised. 

"  Then  give  it  to  me.  The  count  has  just  been 
talking  about  it.  He  longs  for  his  ring,  he  thinks  of 
it  day  and  night,  but  it  is  not  good  for  him." 

Jonas  Bertila  shook  his  head.  "  I  do  not  know 
you,"  he  said,  "  and  there  is  said  to  be  some  strange 
deviltry  about  that  old  bit  of  copper.  I  will  not  give 
it  to  anyone  but  the  count  himself." 

At  these  words  the  peasant  woman  threw  back  the 
cloth  which  covered  her  forehead,  and  disclosed  a  face 
of  so  much  nobility  and  elevation  of  expression,  that 
Jonas  involuntarily  raised  his  hand  to  find  whether  he 
had  forgotten  the  cap  on  his  head. 

"  Do  I  look  able  to  deceive  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Jonas.  "Here  is  the  ring,  and 
as  the  count  offered  a  reward  of  five  hundred  dollars 
to  any  one  who  should  get  back  the  rubbish  for  him, 
have  the  kindness  to  say  to  him  that  he  can  give  the 
money  to  the  poor  of  Storkyro  parish.  Not  that  we 
really  have  any  poor  in  Storkyro,"  shrewdly  added  the 
peasant,  "  but  it  may  be  as  well  to  have  the  money  in 


2Vi  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

case  we  should  happen  to  have  a  year  or  two  of  bad 
crops." 

"  Remember  me  to  your  mother,  Jonas  !  "  said  the 
peasant-woman,  as  she  took  the  ring,  covered  her  face, 
and  disappeared  through  the  nearest  door. 

Jonas  stood  there  in  great  perplexity.  "  Have  I 
acted  foolishly  or  wisely  ?  Where  have  I  seen  that 
face  before  ?  "  thought  he  to  himself,  with  a  dim  recol- 
lection from  childhood's  days.  "  But  it  is  all  the  same. 
I  am  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  good-for-nothing  troll-trash. 
Ever  since  I  found  it  on  the  barber's  floor,  I  have  had 
the  nightmare  every  single  night." 

Mora  from  Ostanlid  meantime  stood  in  the  room 
adjoining,  looking  at  the  ring,  which  had  once  so  pow- 
erfully influenced  her  own  fate.  She  had  then  been 
inclined  to  bless  its  potency,  and  yet, — who  would  have 
ventured  to  say  that  it  would  not  have  been  better  for 
her  if  that  ring  had  still  lain  buried  in  the  sand 
eighteen  hundred  fathoms  below  the  surface  of  the  sea 
in  Wasa  roadstead  ! 

She  had  scarcely  seen,  and  never  wore,  the  ring. 
She  now  held  it  up  to  the  light.  How  wonderfully  it 
was  put  together  !  How  rare  was  its  faint  luster  ! 
And  those  letters  of  which  she  had  so  often  heard, — 
how  legible  they  still  seemed  on  the  inside  of  the  ring  ! 

She  shuddered  when  she  remembered  Neptunus 
Gast.  Was  there  really  any  truth  in  the  awful  power 
attributed  to  this  insignificant  bit  of  copper  ?  Was  it 
true  that  it  had  already  led  many  human  beings  to  tem- 
poral and  eternal  ruin  ?  And  was  it  true  that  every 
one  who  wore  it  could  all  at  once  transform  the  dark- 
est night  of  disaster  to  the  brightest  day  of  happiness, 
in  fact,  that  the  very  moment  it  passed  into  another 
hand,  a  human  destiny  was  immediately  altered  ? 

A  wonderful  temptation  entered  her  mind.  Had 
not  the  wounded  man  in  there  promised  her  just  now, 
in  exchange  for  this  ring,  to  marry  her  to — her  hus- 
band ?     If  she  now  handed  him  the  longed-for  jewel, 


MORNING  LIGHT.  213 

would  she  not  have  her  step-son's  own  consent  to 
return  with  all  the  rights  of  a  wife  ?  Or,  if  she  retained 
the  ring,  would  not  its  lauded  power  before  long  lead 
her  to  the  goal  of  her  wishes,  to  a  regained  happiness, 
to  reconciliation  and  peace?  For  one  moment,  she 
fought  hard  against  the  temptation.  The  next  mo- 
ment she  again  shuddered  at  the  evil  impulses  which 
seemed  almost  magnetically  to  stream  out  from  that 
demoniac  ring. 

Mora  from  Ostanlid  was  still  standing  immersed  in 
these  thoughts,  when  she  heard  a  voice  behind  her  — 
that  voice  which,  of  all  voices  on  earth,  most  deeply 
penetrated  her  heart.  It  was  the  voice  of  her  husband, 
Count  Charles  A^ictor  Bertelskold. 

"  How  is  it  with  the  count  ?  Does  he  still  live?  " 
asked  the  trembling  voice. 

"  He  lives,"  replied  the  peasant-woman,  scarcely 
audibly,  and  supporting  herself  against  the  window 
casement,  to  keep  from  sinking  to  the  floor. 

"  Is  he  sufficiently  restored  so  that  he  can  without 
danger  see  his  father  ?  "  eagerly  inquired  Count  Ber- 
telskold, without  paying  any  attention  to  the  emotion 
of  the  unknown  woman. 

She  found  a  few  seconds  in  which  to  regain  com- 
posure. "  Yes,"  she  whispered,  "  but  on  the  condition 
that  your  grace  will  not  say  anything  which  will  excite 
or  grieve  him,  for  he  is  still  very  weak." 

"  That  is  good;  I  will  be  careful,"  replied  the  count, 
as  he  entered  the  private  room. 

His  unrecognized  wife,  with  silent  step,  followed 
him.  There  was  a  screen  across  the  corner,  and  no 
one  observed  her.  She  heard  and  saw  all,  with  her 
heart  far  more  than  with  eye  and  ear.  Oh,  how  the 
beloved  of  her  youth  had  aged  in  these  ten  months 
since  they  last  saw  each  other  !  How  gray  his  hair  had 
grown,  and  how  pale  his  cheek  !  How  bent  his  once 
proud  form,  and  how  dim  the  luster  of  his  mild  blue 
eye  !     But  she  loved  him  still,  yes,  she  knew  that  she 


214  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

loved  him  more  than  ever  before,  for  she  had  brought 
sorrow  to  him,  she  who  had  sworn  to  be  the  joy  of  his 
life  ! 

The  reunion  between  father  and  son  was  warmer 
than  their  unseen  witness  had  ventured  to  hope.  The 
father,  in  the  delight  of  again  finding  his  first-born 
alive,  forgot  everything  ;  the  son  felt  a  need  of  love 
which  he  had  never  experienced  before. 

"  Father,"  said  Bernhard,  "  I  have  deeply  offended 
you  .  .  .  .  " 

"  We  will  talk  about  that  when  you  get  well,"  said 
the  count.  "  Providence  has  sent  us  these  trials  to 
punish  us  and  amend  our  great  defects — your  pride 
and  my  weakness.  I  have  hurried  to  Stockholm  to 
save  all  which  is  dear  to  me  in  life,  my  lost  wife,  my 
two  sons,  and  the  honor  of  our  family.  I  come  not  in 
my  own  strength,  but  in  the  power  of  God  which  I 
feel  within  me.  There  must  no  longer  be  darkness 
and  hatred  around  us.  We  shall  all,  all  adore  the 
mercy  of  the   Almighty." 

At  that  moment,  Count  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold 
was  noble  and  proud.  All  the  unmanly  weakness 
which  had  for  awhile  shaded  his  just  and  really  high- 
souled  character,  now  that  he  was  so  near  losing 
everything  that  attached  him  to  life,  seemed  suddenly 
lost.  He  stood  there  manly  and  erect,  firmly  resolved 
to  fight  against  his  fate,  and  save  his  dear  ones. 

"  How  beautiful  he  is  !  How  beautiful  he  is  !  " 
thought  his  unseen,  unknown  wife,  in  her  hidden 
nook,  while  she  was  ready  to  throw  herself  into  his 
arms,  and  kiss  as  of  old  his  dear  gray  curls,  and  his 
lofty,  gentle,  care-furrowed  brow. 


MORMING  LIGHT.  215 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    BATTLE    FOR    A    HUMAN    SOUL, 

THAT  day,  when  Mora  from  Ostanlid  sat  only  a 
few  steps  from  her  lost  husband,  who  did  not 
suspect  her  presence,  and  when  it  depended  only  upon 
her  to  throw  herself  into  his  open  arms,  and  be  re- 
ceived with  tears  of  delight,  that  day  the  tempter  came 
to  her  with  a  power  he  had  rarely  exerted  on  the  heart 
of  woman.  The  insidious  thoughts  returned  with  re- 
doubled strength.  "Go,"  said  the  tempter,  "make 
yourself  known,  and  put  an  end  to  your  bitter  sorrow! 
Do  you  still  fear  your  step-son's  hatred  ?  Foolish 
one  !  Do  you  not  possess  the  king's  ring  ?  Do  you 
not  know  that  you  will  now  be  successful  in  every- 
thing ?  No  wish  can  arise  in  your  heart  so  bold  that 
it  will  not  immediately  be  accomplished;  and  besides, 
have  you  forgotten  that  Bernard  has  promised  to  give 
you  unknown  to  your  husband  again  if  you  will  restore 
him  the  ring  ?  " 

What  an  enticement  !  What  a  hard  conflict !  But 
the  poor  rejected  woman  did  not  yield.  She  felt  that 
her  time  had  not  yet  come.  The  ring  burned  in  her 
hand,  and  she  knew  that  it  might  possibly  have  been 
the  temporal  salvation  of  her  protege,  but  the  more 
surely  his  eternal  ruin.  Motionless  and  silent  she  sat, 
and  heard  the  two  men,  father  and  son,  talk  about  her. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  body-physician  Dalberg  and  thank 
him  for  his  care  of  you,"  said  the  count. 

"  Do  so,  father,  and  thank  him  for  his  particular 
care  in  passing  me  over  to  immortality,"  replied  Bern- 
hard,  in  his  old  mocking  tone.  "  But,  father,  if  you 
want  to  thank  the  one  who  has  kept  me  on  earth, 


216  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

think  of  some  reward  for  a  Finnish  witch  who  has  been 
my  nurse.  I  have  no  fancy  for  witches,  but  Mora 
from  Ostanlid  is  a  rare  exception,  for  she  alone  has 
thought  me  worthy  to  live  when  all  others  thought 
me  worthy  to  die." 

"  I  shall  not  forget  to  give  her  a  suitable  reward," 
replied  the  count,  as  he  arose  to  go,  for  the  visit  must 
not  be  too  long. 

As  he  passed  out,  he  observed  Mora  from  Ostanlid, 
who,  as  long  as  possible,  concealed  herself  behind 
the  screen. 

"  Are  you  the  one  who  has  taken  care  of  my  son  ?" 
he  asked. 

Mutely,  and  with  the  cloth  drawn  low  over  her 
head,  she  nodded. 

"I  thank  you,"  said  the  count.  "Keep  on  caring 
for  him,  and  you  can  count  on  my  gratitude.  For 
a  beginning,  take  this  as  a  proof  of  it,"  and  as  he 
passed  a  gold  coin  into  her  hand  he  felt  the  hand 
tremble. 

"  You  have  sat  up  too  much,  you  need  to  take  some 
rest,"  continued  the  count,  with  a  transient  sympathy, 
and  departed. 

"  Oh  !  "  thought  she  who  was  left  alone,  "  if  he  had 
stood  before  me  in  the  most  impenetrable  disguise, 
and  I  had  pressed  his  hand  and  felt  it  tremble  in  mine, 
/  should  instantly  have  recognized  him  !  " 

Several  days  after  this  elapsed.  Count  Bernhard's 
strength  increased,  and  time  began  to  grow  tedious 
to  him. 

"  Bring  me  a  French  romance  !  "  said  he  to  his 
nurse,  in  a  commanding  tone. 

She  went  out,  and  returned  with  a  book,  but  it  was 
not  a  French  romance,  it  was  Thomas  a  Kempis;  and 
she  sat  down  to  read  aloud  from  the  book. 

"  What  ? "  said  the  wounded  man  angrily,  "  do  you 
venture  to  play  tricks  on  me  ?  " 

But  she  went  on  reading  : 


MORNING  LIGHT.  217 

"  My  God,  look  thou  upon  me,  and  be  not  far  from 
me.  Evil  thoughts  are  arisen  within  me,  and  great 
terror  troubles  my  soul.  How  am  I  to  vanquish  them 
unharmed  ?" 

"  '  I  will  go  before  thee,'  saith  the  Lord,  '  and  abase 
the  great  and  glorious  on  earth.  I  will  open  the  gates 
of  thy  prison,  and  reveal  unto  thee  hidden  things.'  " 

Count  Bernhard  did  not  easily  fall  into  a  passion, 
but  he  was  now  overcome  with  violent  anger.  On  the 
toilet  table  by  the  bed  lay  a  psalm-book,  with  board 
covers  and  brass  clasps.  He  seized  the  book,  and 
threw  it  so  violently  at  his  nurse  that  the  blood  streamed 
from  her  nose  and  mouth. 

She  turned  away  to  wipe  her  face,  and  afterward 
continued  as  calmly  as  if  nothing  had  happened: 

"  Lord,  do  with  me  as  thou  hast  said,  and  all  evil 
thoughts  shall  flee  before  thy  face.  Behold,  I  am  not 
worthy  thy  consolation,  and  the  care  thou  hast  of  me. 
I  have  deeply  sinned,  and  all  my  desire  has  been  to 
earthly  things.  I  have  exalted  myself  higher  than  the 
heavens,  and  must  be  abased  to  the  depth  of  the  earth. 
All  that  is  within  me  is  sin  and  darkness,  unless  thy 
holy  spirit  maketh  my  darkness  light.  Lord,  have 
compassion  on  me,  and  make  the  light  of  thy  counten- 
ance to  shine  upon  me  !  Rebuke  the  winds  and  the 
tempests !  Say  unto  the  sea :  Be  still  !  and  to  the 
north-wind  :  Blow  not ! — and  there  shall  be  a  great 
calm." 

"  Crazy  old  woman,  with  your  miserable  monk- 
sermon  !  "  muttered  the  sick  man  as  he  turned  to  the 
wall  in  order  not  to  hear  her. 

But  she  kept  on  reading  : 

"'  My  son,'  saith  the  Lord,  'deny  thyself  and  thou 
shalt  find  me  !  ' — '  Lord,  how  often  shall  I  deny 
myself,  and  wherein  shall  I  deny  ? ' — '  Always  and 
everywhere,  in  the  little  and  in  the  great.  I  take  noth- 
ing away,  but  in  everything  I  wish  to  find  thee  desti- 
tute. How  else  canst  thou  be  mine  and  I  thine  ?" 
10 


218  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"Often  have  1  said  unto  thee,  and  1  say  it  again  : 
Surrender  thyself,  deny  thyself,  so  shalt  thou  taste 
great  peace  of  mind.  Give  all  for  all ;  take  nothing 
away  ;  demand  nothing  again  ;  cleave  to  me  alone, 
and  I  will  be  thine.  And  thy  heart  shall  be  free,  and 
darkness  shall  no  longer  overpower  thee." 

After  a  while  the  reader  closed  the  book  again,  for 
the  patient  needed  rest.  But  the  day  afterward  she 
again  began. 

Count  Bernhard's  outburst  of  temper  had  been  a 
powerful  means  of  hastening  on  the  change  in  his 
heart.  Had  he  not,  contrary  to  his  custom,  given  way 
to  such  rude  passion,  he  would  perhaps  not  have  put 
up  with  so  much  persistence.  But  he  was  now  ashamed 
of  his  precipitancy,  and  in  order  in  some  degree  to 
make  amends  for  it,  he  resolved  this  time  to  have 
patience.  After  this  reading  followed  another,  and 
then  again  another,  day  after  day.  Not  one  day  did 
Mora  from  Ostanlid  leave  him  to  his  former  thoughts. 
His  first  disgust  for  the  monk's  sermon,  as  he  called  it, 
began  by  degrees  to  give  way.  He  now  admitted  that 
there  was  something  good  in  it,  although  "to  an  intol- 
erable excess."  Against  his  will,  a  whole  new  world 
of  ideas  and  renunciations  opened  before  him,  of  which 
he  had  never  had  any  suspicion,  and  the  indescribable 
feeling  of  God's  presence,  never  before  experienced, 
worked  to  a  surprising  depth  in  the  abysses  of  his  soul, 
now  with  an  overwhelming  repentance  and  humiliation, 
and  now  with  a  foretaste  of  comfort  which  resembled 
the  beneficent  coolness  of  a  sweet  summer-wind  over 
his  broken,  peaceless,  anxious  conscience. 

One  day,  while  Mora  from  Ostanlid  sat  as  usual 
silently  behind  the  screen,  the  old  count  came  back. 

"  I  have  good  news,"  said  he,  with  brightened  fore- 
head. "  Paul  is  living  and  is  recovered  from  his 
wound.  He  has  written  to  me,  and  I  have  visited  him 
at  his  abode  with  a  court-huntsman  by  the  name  of 
Grenman.     As  soon  as  he  gets  permission  to  go  out, 


MORNING  LIGHT.  319 

he  will  visit  you,  in  case  he  will  be  received.  He  has 
himself  requested  it." 

"  He  will  be  welcome.  There  is  noble  blood  flow- 
ing in  his  veins,"  replied  Bernhard,  touched  against  his 
will. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  count,  seriously,  "  a  nobler  blood 
than  mine  and  yours,  and  that  is  his  mother  s.'' 

Bernhard  was  silent.  That  was  the  hardest  of  all 
the  hard  nuts  that  grew  among  the  thorns  in  his  soul. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  half  evasively,  "  I  remember 
that  my  step-mother  once  used  to  read  aloud  to  you. 
What  books  were  they  ?  " 

"  Oftenest  the  Bible.  Sometimes  also  Tessin's  let- 
ter to  Gustaf  HI  as  a  prince,  or  other  learned  secular 
books.  But  next  to  the  Bible  she  liked  best  to  read 
Johan  Arndt  and  Thomas  a  Kempis." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  ?  Is  he 
not  too  strict  ?  " 

"  He  demands  only  what  all  Christian  teachers  de- 
mand— the  perfect  renunciation  and  devotion  of  the 
heart  to  God." 

"  But  you  see  that  is  impossible.  A  man  cannot 
cast  away  from  him  his  whole  former  life,  and  like  a 
new-born  babe  begin  a  new  existence." 

"  Not  by  his  own  strength.  But  with  God  nothing 
is  impossible.     Why  do  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  Because, — only  do  not  laugh,  it  is  nervousness 
arising  from  my  sickness, — that  Finnish  witch,  you 
know,  often  reads  to  me  out  of  the  old  monk's  book. 
It  makes  me  very  whimsical,  yes,  superstitious.  It 
seems  to  me  sometimes  as  though  I  was  the  greatest 
criminal  on  earth,  and  that,  unknown  powers  had  sent 
an  angel  from  heaven  to  lead  me  into  a  better  path.  It 
must  be  from  the  sickness.  Do  you  not  think,  father, 
it  is  ridiculous  of  an  aforetime  philosopher  and  ambas- 
sador to  Madrid  ?  " 

"  If  anything  is  ridiculous,"  replied  Count  Charles 
Victor  Bertelskold,   with  dignified  seriousness,  "  it  is 


•320  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

the  pretension  of  our  time  to  wish  to  pull  down  the 
omnipotent  God  from  his  eternal  throne,  and  disin- 
tegrate Christianity  into  dry  moral  rules.  That  was 
not  our  father's  way  of  thinking.  AVhen  I  was  a  child, 
my  mother  often  used  to  tell  me  how  my  deceased 
father,  according  to  his  great  king's  example,  never 
went  out  on  any  of  his  numerous  campaigns  without 
continually  carrying  his  Bible  with  him,  and  daily  read- 
ing in  it.  I  myself  have  served  under  Prince  Eugene, 
and  have  seen  many  do  in  the  same  way.  Never  yet 
has  the  shield  of  a  nobleman  been  stained  by  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  word  of  the  living  God,  but  many  a  time 
by  the  opposite." 

Count  Bernhard  was  silent,  but  the  hidden  seed  in 
his  heart  was  beginning  to  grow.  When  his  father  had 
gone  away,  he  called  Mora  from  Ostanlid. 

"  Woman,"  said  he,  suddenly,  "  I  want  to  see  your 
face."       , 

She  was  frightened  and  stepped  back.  "  You  can- 
not, my  lord,"  she  replied.     "A  promise    .     .     .     ." 

"  Listen,"  continued  the  count.  "  I  am  ashamed  to 
admit  it,  but  I  am  sometimes  susceptible  to  fancies, 
credulous,  superstitious,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
them.  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  wish  of  me  ?  I 
do  not  know  you;  you  look  to  be  a  poor  peasant- 
woman,  but  there  is  something  about  you  which  con- 
tradicts your  costume." 

"  If  your  grace  questions  me  any  more,  I  will  go 
away." 

"  No,  stay  !  Next  to  my  mother,  whom  I  scarcely 
remember,  you  are  the  only  woman  in  the  world  whom 
I  have  ever  highly  esteemed.  You  are  not  what  you 
say  you  are.  If  there  are  good  spirits  which  protect 
mankind,  you  must  be  my  protecting  angel.  Uncover 
your  face;  I  am  not  worthy  to  behold  a  being  of  higher 
origin,  but  it  would  do  me  good.  I  might  learn  to 
believe." 

"  Believe  in  God  and  not  in  human  beings  !     I  am 


MORNING  LIGHT.  221 

no  angel,  I  am  what  I  seem,  a  poor  woman,  full  of 
weakness  and  want.  On  the  day  when  you  prove  by 
deed,  and  not  by  word  alone  that  the  grace  of  God  has 
found  entrance  into  your  heart,  then,  but  not  before,  I 
will  uncover  my  face.  You  are  now  out  of  all  danger, 
and  can  spare  me,  so  I  will  leave  you.  But  if  you  like, 
I  will  sometimes  return  to  read  to  you." 

"  No,  do  not  leave  me  !  You  have  shown  me  the 
greatest  kindness  one  mortal  can  show  another.  You 
have  restored  me,  body  and  soul." 

"  Farewell.  I  shall  come  back.  .  .  .  It  is  time 
for  me  to  go,  for  he  already  suspects  too  much," 
thought  Mora  from  Ostanlid  as  she  departed. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

TWO  women's  love. 

ONE  evening  Paul  Bertelskold  was  sitting  at  the 
window  in  the  little  hunting-lodge,  looking,  with 
longing  eyes,  out  toward  the  first  brightening  verdure 
of  spring.  It  was  nearly  two  weeks  since  his  mother 
had  left  him.  She  had  daily  written  to  him,  and  re- 
ceived answers  as  to  his  health,  but  she  had  forbidden 
his  revealing  her  presence  to  his  father.  The  count, 
however,  had  accidently  met  Grenman,  who  had  not 
had  the  heart  to  conceal  from  him  the  son's  place  of 
abode.  Paul  again  met  his  father  with  feelings  of  af- 
fection in  his  warm  heart;  it  was  not  his  fault  that  half 
the  secret  was  disclosed.  He  had  obeyed  his  mother's 
wish,  for  to  him  there  was  nothing  on  earth  so  sacred 
as  his  mother's  request. 

Little  by  little  his  health  had  improved,  and  he  had 
been  allowed  to  open  his  window  when  the  noon-day 
sun  shone  warm  on  the  panes.  But  now  it  was  evening, 


222  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

the  air  was  cool,  and  yet  Paul  had  forgotten  to  shut  his 
window.  He  saw  the  shadows  of  the  tree-trunks  grow 
longer  and  longer  across  the  still  tender  velvety  turf, 
and  in  the  west  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  remote 
indistinct  roofs  of  Sweden's  metropolis. 

In  its  place  rose  the  full  moon,  illuminating  the 
idyllic  picture  which  lay  extended  before  Paul's  win- 
dow, and  of  which  Bellman  had  not  yet  sung  how 

"The  Brunswick's  billows  bright 
Reflect  their  liquid  light." 

Paul  watched  the  glittering  pillar  of  moonlight  on 
the  newly  liberated  bay.  Very  lonely  and  silent  and 
sad,  and  yet  sweet  and  cheery  was  it  here.  There  was 
a  presage  of  spring,  that  in  fleeting  necken-dances 
played  across  the  shining  watery  mirror.  Who  gath- 
ered those  runes  into  speech,  and  read  those  glistening, 
silver-twinkling,  soundless  words  ? 

Paul  was  a  dreamer  who  always  read  something 
beneath  the  surface  of  things.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  was  close  to  the  heart  of  nature.  He  understood 
her  silent  speech.  He  was  sorrowful  and  glad,  like  the 
moonlight  this  evening.  In  the  glitter  of  the  waves  he 
read  his  whole  life. 

At  one  time  the  pillar  of  moonlight  in  the  sea  was 
darkened,  and  a  slight  shadow  seemed  to  glide  across 
it.  Then  the  shadow  disappeared,  and  everything  was 
again  as  before.  Was  it  a  boat  on  the  bay,  or  was  it 
the  necken's  daughter,  leaping  for  a  moment  up  into 
the  glitter  of  the  waves  ? 

Soon  afterward  two  forms  were  seen  as  though  as- 
cending out  of  the  sea,  and  approaching  the  hunter's 
lodge.  Now  they  were  concealed  by  the  trees,  now 
they  again  glided  forth  in  the  moonlight,  and  Paul  saw 
that  they  were  two  women.  They  were  probably  the 
ones  who  had  had  themselves  rowed  across  the  bay  in  a 
boat. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  223 

When  they  had  come  nearer,  one  of  them  said  to  the 
other:  "  It  is  here  !  "  and  that  one  remained  standing 
as  though  on  guard,  while  the  other  went  forward  to 
the  open  window. 

"  Is  that  you,  Count  Bertelskold  ?  "  asked  a  not  un- 
known voice,  in  French,  and  the  voice  perceptibly 
trembled. 

The  uncertain  moonlight  fell  on  Marchioness 
Egmont's  charming  face,  and  in  spite  of  the  blush 
which  suddenly  suffused  her  cheeks  with  crimson,  she 
seemed,  in  that  light,  as  pale  as  a  ghost. 

"  You  here,  my  lady! "  exclaimed  Paul,  greatly 
astonished  at  this  unexpected  vision. 

"  Oh,  how  I  have  sought  you,  how  I  have  sought 
you  for  four  long  weeks!  "  continued  the  animated 
French  woman,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  ought  to  hate  you, 
yes,  abhor  you,  ungrateful  creature,  for  leaving  me  so 
long  without  a  line  about  your  life  or  dwelling-place  ! 
But  there  is  not  time  for  that  now.  I  have  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  importance  to  confide  to  you,  and  I  am 
glad  I  have  not  arrived  too  late.  To-night,  for  the 
first  time,  I  have  succeeded  in  finding  your  place  of 
refuge,  and  I  would  not  lose  a  single  minute." 

"  How  good  you  are,  madame!  "  replied  Paul,  with 
his  easily  moved  heart. 

"  Is  there  no  place  where  we  can  talk  without  wit- 
nesses? These  shadows  terrify  me,  and  I  fear  some 
one  is  hidden  behind  the  trunks  of  the  trees,"  con- 
tinued the  marchioness,  with  a  timid  look  at  the  half- 
obscure  park. 

"  If  you  will  come  into  my  little  room,"  said  Paul, 
embarrassed  and  blushing,  for  he  was  not  prepared  for 
such  a  visit. 

"Yes,  yes,  show  me  the  way  in!  "  whispered  the 
beautiful  French  woman,  with  a  gesture  of  haste  and 
anxiety. 

Paul  showed  her  the  stairs,  and  immediately  after- 
ward received  her  in  his  chamber. 


2'H  T/.VES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  me?  "  said  the  marchioness, 
as  wearied  out,  she  sunk  down  on  a  plain  wooden 
chair. 

"My  lady  .  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  you  with  your  rigid  manners  and  your  pro- 
priety, what  do  you  think  of  a  person  who  at  this  time 
and  in  this  manner  intrudes  into  your  presence? " 

"  I  am  grateful  for  it,"  innocently  replied  Paul. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  you  understand  me  rightly!  Be  assured 
that  only  the  most  important  reasons  could  have  in- 
duced me  ....  But  it  is  all  the  same.  You  are  not 
heartless  like  other  men.  You  are  the  only  one  to 
whom  I  can  speak  in  full  confidence.  Your  rescued 
life  is  again  in  danger,  my  lord!  " 

"  Oh,  madame,  my  wound  is  healed  .  .  .  ." 

"  Understand  me  rightly.  I  paid  thirty  of  the  best 
detectives  of  the  police  to  find  you,  and  they  led  me  on 
a  false  track  to  Upsala.     I  went  thither  .  .  .  ." 

"  For  my  sake!  " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  the  celebrated  Linnaeus.  When 
I  came  back  I  found  out  that  a  Spanish  valet  of  your 
brother  knew  your  place  of  abode,  and  had  let  threats 
against  you  escape  him.  I  had  him  further  examined, 
and  scarcely  an  hour  ago  found  out  that  every  night  he 
lay  in  wait  in  the  park  at  Brunswick,  armed,  and  with 
the  design  of  killing  you.  Not  a  moment  was  to  be 
lost.  I  sent  out  people  to  watch  the  park,  and  myself 
hastened  to  inform  you  of  the  danger.  It  is  the  hatred 
of  your  brother,  which,  having  failed  of  a  victim,  wants 
to  make  amends  for  its  carelessness." 

"  No,  that  is  impossible.  My  brother  lies  more 
dangerously  wounded  than  myself,  and  my  father  told 
me  he  had  changed  his  principles." 

"  Your  father  ma)''  have  been  mistaken,  and  a 
wounded  enemy  can  make  use  of  a  well  arm.  You  are 
not  safe  a  moment,  and  so  you  must  immediately  go 
away  from  here  with  me." 

"  Pardon  me,  I  cannot  do  that." 


MORNING  LIGHT.  235 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  would  be  cowardly  to  fly  from  a  perhaps  im- 
agined danger,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  wound  the  honest 
huntsman  who  has  given  me  an  asylum  with  him."' 

The  marchioness  arose,  threw  off  her  velvet  cloak, 
and  sat  down  by  the  window,  where  the  moonlight  fell 
on  her  pale  face,  and  was  strangely  reflected  in  her 
small  and  sparkling  brown  eyes. 

"  You  cannot?  "  she  repeated.  "  Well,  then  I  will 
remain  with  you." 

"  Madame  !  " — stammered  Paul  in  amazement. 

"  And  you  think,  you  ingrate,  that  I  would  leave 
you,  and  lose  you  again,  perhaps  forever!  Do  you  not 
then  guess  what  I  have  suffered  during  those  eternally 
long  weeks,  when  I  did  not  know  whether  you  were 
living  or  buried?  And  you  believe  that  I  will  once 
more  be  slowly  tortured  to  death,  in  order  that  the 
honest  huntsman  may  not  be  lonesome  for  you,  or  for 
fear  some  one  may  upbraid  you  with  having  fled  from 
an  assassin!  Oh,  my  lord  ....  the  moonlight  is  very 
fine  this  evening!  " 

"  You  will  be  missed  .  .  .  ." 

"  You  are  not  badly  situated,  you  have  a  very  fine 
view.  Superb  poplars  over  there.  Do  not  incommode 
yourself,  I  beg  you  ;  I  shall  thrive  very  well." 

Paul  was  conscious  of  something  within  him  which 
resembled  one-third  anger,  one-third  trembling,  and 
the  rest  enchantment. 

"  No,"  said  he;  "I  would  be  the  most  ungrateful 
being  on  earth  if  I  permitted  you  to  expose  yourself  so 
for  my  sake." 

"  Then  will  you  go  with  me?  " 

"  No,  my  lady,  your  reputation  .  .  ,  ." 

"  What  of  that?  What  do  I  care  for  my  reputation? 
What  is  a  reputation?  A  lie.  But  I  disdain  lies,  my 
lord.  Oh,  there  are  beautiful  things  already  told  about 
me!  Let  them  tell  a  fable  more;  it  is  indifferent  to  me. 
You  will  not  go  with  me,  and  I  will  not  leave  you,  so 
P 


236  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

I  shall  remain  here  in  this  seat  till  to-morrow  morning. 
What  shall  we  converse  about?  What  do  you  think,  for 
instance,  about  Stockholm?  A  good  deal  of  ice — or 
what  is  }'our  opinion? " 

"Herminie!  "  exclaimed  Paul,  beside  himself,  and 
seizing  her  hand. 

"  It  is  said  that  you  have  a  kind  of  sunshine  in  the 
summer.  Your  moon  is  detestably  melancholy.  It 
makes  us  all  as  pale  as  ghosts.  If  it  were  not  for  those 
black  curls,  you  would  look  like  a  marble  statue.  If 
you  will  permit,  I  will  arrange  them  a  V antique.  I  will 
imagine  that  we  are  ghosts  from  past  centuries,  who 
have  returned  to  earth  to  visit  the  favorite  places  of 
yore.  Who  did  we  use  to  be  when  we  lived  on  earth? 
I  was — let's  see!  Cecilia  Wasa.  And  you,  who  were 
you?  The  Count  of  Hoya.  Oh,  how  beautiful  it  is  to 
be  dead,  when  one  has  company  in  the  grave!  " 

Paul  kissed  the  delicate  snow-white  hand.  The 
moon  shone  on  his  black  hair,  and  the  poplars  outside 
rustled  in  the  night  wind. 

"  It  must  be  sweet  to  love  after  death,  especially  if 
one  has  never  found  love  in  life,"  whispered  the  beau- 
tiful French  woman,  in  dreaming  sadness. 

"  Who  would  not  love  you,  Herminie!  Who  would 
not  gladly  die  to  make  you  happy!  " 

"  But  live,  Paul!  Then  is  there  no  one,  no  one  in 
the  wide  world  who  will  live  for  me?  " 

And  her  handsome  curly  head  sunk  against  his 
breast. 

Then  the  door  softly  opened,  and  with  silent  step  a 
woman  in  peasant  costume  entered.  Unobserved  she 
advanced  to  the  kneeling  youth,  who  was  pressing  to 
his  lips  the  left  hand  of  Marchioness  Egmont,  which 
she  did  not  withdraw,  while  the  right  lay  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  her  lustrous  eyes  seemed  utterly  absorbed  in 
the  contemplation  of  him. 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  moon,  and  it  was  almost 
dark  in  the  room.     Mora  from  Ostanlid,  for  it  was  she, 


MORNING  LIGHT.  227 

laid  her  hand  softly  on   the    young  man's  head   and 
whispered,  "  Paul!  " 

Paul  and  the  marchioness  both  sprung  up  at  once. 
If  the  shadow  had  not  been  so  dense,  the  cheeks  of 
both  might  have  been  seen  to  suffuse  with  a  glowing- 
crimson. 

But  with  the  marchioness  the  impression  followed 
the  word  as  quickly  as  the  report  after  the  flash.  In- 
stantly the  demon  of  jealousy  gained  the  ascendancy 
over  her,  and  with  a  dagger  point  in  every  word  she 
said: 

"  Do  you  not  hear,  my  lord?  Your  sweetheart 
spoke  your  name.  I  now  understand  why  you  cannot 
go  with  me." 

The  room  grew  light;  Mora  from  Ostanlid  had 
uncovered  a  dark-lantern,  which  she  had  held  con- 
cealed, and  lighted  a  lamp. 

"  Marchioness  Egmont,"  said  Paul,  "  I  have  the 
honor  of  presenting  my  mother,  Countess  Bertelskold. 
Mother,  I  entreat  your  friendship  for  this  noble,  estim- 
able lady,  who  has  come  hither  to  protect  me  against  a 
feared  secret  assault." 

"  I  thank  you,  madame,  for  your  kindness  to  my 
son  !  "  said  the  countess,  with  calm  dignity,  extending 
her  hand.  "Your  fears  were  well  grounded:  Jose  the  valet 
has  just  been  arrested  by  your  people  not  far  from' 
here.  Your  visit  has  perhaps  saved  Paul's  life,  and  it 
was  beautiful,  it  was  magnanimous  of  you.  /  cannot 
misunderstand  you,  madame  !  " 

Marchioness  Egmont  knew  how  to  value  the  subtle 
delicacy  of  those  words.  She  pressed  the  hand  of  her 
supposed  rival,  and,  with  an  embarrassment  which 
became  her  indescribably,  said  : 

"  I  thank  you  that  you  have  understood  me  rightly, 
and  by  your  words  I  would  have  known  you  without 
presentation.  I  am  very  happy  in  having  made  your 
acquaintance,  madame,  and  since  you  are  here,  I  have 
no  longer  any   reason  to  tremble  for  Count  Paul.     I 


228  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

yield  the  charge  of  his  welfare  into  the  best  of  hands, 
and  who  have  also  the  best  right  to  it.  Farewell,  my 
dear  countess  ;  farewell,  lord  count  !  Au  revoir  !  " 

"  Farewell,  marchioness  !_....     I   came  just   in 
time  !  "  thought  Mora  from  Ostanlid. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  TEMPTER  IN   THE    WILDERNESS. 

OUTSIDE  the  entrance  to  the  Great  Church  at 
Stockholm,  stood,  one  Sunday  forenoon,  an  elderly 
man  in  long  brown  coat,  and  with  a  broad-brimmed  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  forehead.  For  a  long  time  he 
had  stood  there  in  the  same  position  ;  the  bells  rung, 
the  organ  and  psalms  sounded  solemnly  within,  but  to 
these  the  man  in  brown  seemed  to  be  perfectly  indiffer- 
ent. He  did  not  move  from  the  place  ;  he  scarcely 
seemed  to  observe  the  several  hundred  who  went  past 
him.  He  looked  only  at  the  crotch  of  his  massive  staff, 
and  the  church-goers  cast  suspicious  glances  at  him, 
thinking  he  was  not  exactly  in  his  right  mind. 

But  in  the  crotch  of  his  staff  there  was  a  very  small 
box  encased,  and  in  this  box  was  a  compass,  which  the 
man  in  the  brown  coat  attentively  observed  every  time 
any  one  went  by. 

"  Yesterday  it  pointed  north-east,  and  to-day  it 
points  almost  straight  down,  but  without  the  least 
motion  !  "  muttered  the  man  to  himself. 

The  service  closed,  and  the  people  began  to  pour 
out  of  church.  Suddenly  a  slight  trembling  was 
observed  in  the  needle,  but  it  immediately  ceased.  A 
peasant  was  walking  past.  The  man  in  brown 
looked  up  and  said  :  "  He  has  had  it,  but  he  has  it  no 
longer." 


MORNING  LIGHT,  329 

The  peasant,  however,  became  aware  of  his  pres- 
ence, and  turned  around.     It  was  Jonas  Bertila. 

"  Good  day.  Doctor  Weis  !  "  said  he.  "  Or  rather, 
I  bid  you  good  day.  Do  you  know,  doctor,  that  my 
poor  uncle,  the  old  Larsson,  was  yesterday  taken  to  the 
mad  house,  and  you  are  the  one  that  made  him  crazy  ? 
I  advise  you  to  make  him  rational  again,  or  else  I  may 
testify  something  about  you  which  before  night  might 
put  you  into  the  Rose  Chamber." 

"  I  will  make  your  uncle  as  rational  as  he  can  become, 
if  you  will  tell  to  whom  you  have  given  his  ring,"  replied 
the  doctor. 

"  What  ring  ?  " 

"  The  one  you  found  in  the  barber-shop,  and  after- 
ward gave  away." 

"  Oh  !  that  one  ? "  replied  Jonas,  with  his  shrewd 
face.  "  I  sold  that  for  two-pence  to  a  copper-smith  at 
Gramunkegrjind. " 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "  You  have  heard  too 
much,"  he  said,  "  to  sell  such  a  jewel  for  two-pence. 
Tell  me  to  whom  you  have  given  it,  and  fix  your  own 
price  !  " 

"  The  price  is  your  beard,  you  arrant  knave  !  "  was 
the  reply.  "  If  you  do  not  pack  yourself  off  by  to-night 
I  shall  get  you  lodgings  at  the  White  Horse."* 

"  I  thank  you,"  calmly  replied  the  doctor.  "  If  I 
were  inclined  to  revenge,  I  should  give  you  a  different 
kind  of  lodgings.  But  you  can  go.  You  are  a  reptile 
like  all  the  others." 

With  these  words,  the  man  in  brown  again  placed 
himself  by  the  church  door.  But  scarcely  had  he  cast 
a  glance  at  the  compass  before  he  was  seen  to  change 
color,  for  the  needle  was  in  the  most  violent  motion. 

"  Who  ?  Who  ?  "  murmured  the  doctor,  who  seemed 
wishing  to  devour  the  out-streaming  crowd  with  his 
eyes. 

♦Like  the  Rose  Chamber,  a  room  where  prisoners  were  tortured  to  con- 
fession. 


230  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Forty  persons  at  least  were  passing  him  at  the  same 
time.  He  followed  this  crowd  of  people,  saw  it  divide 
at  the  nearest  street,  and  consulted  the  compass  for 
every  step.  The  needle,  with  undiminished  motion, 
pointed  down  toward  the  palace,  and  then  toward  the 
wharf.  The  man  in  brown  followed  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. At  the  wharf  lay  then,  as  still  in  our  days,  kull- 
boats  for  the  convenience  of  those  who  who  wished  to 
cross  over  the  river  to  Kastellholm,  Ladugardsland,  or 
the  Zoological  Garden.  Several  of  the  boats  were  now 
filled  with  church  people.  The  man  in  brown  went 
along  with  them. 

In  his  boat  there  were,  besides  himself,  two  men  and 
three  women  as  passengers.  The  boat  lay  to  at  several 
landing  places,  and  one  by  one  the  passengers  went 
ashore.  At  last  only  a  peasant- wom.an  remained,  and 
she  ordered  herself  taken  across  to  the  Zoological  Gar- 
den. But  the  man  in  brown  who  had  watched  the 
direction  of  the  needle  had  remained  with  her  to  the 
last,  and  walked  with  her  up  the  steps  of  the  landing 
at  the  so-called  Allmanna  Lane. 

The  woman  left  the  wharf  and  the  boatman's  build- 
ing-grounds to  the  right,  went  past  Hassel  hill,  and 
turned  off  to  the  left  on  a  narrow  foot-path,  which  led 
through  the  wild  lonely  park   directly  to  Brunswick. 

"  Northeast,  that  is  right  !  "  said  the  man  in  brown 
to  himself,  as  he  followed  her. 

When  they  had  advanced  so  far  between  the  hills 
and  the  close  tree-trunks  that  all  view  of  the  town  was 
lost,  and  no  living  being  was  seen  near  them  except  the 
thrushes  and  bullfinches  in  the  half-leaved  tree-tops, 
the  man  quickened  his  pace,  and  soon  found  himself  at 
the  side  of  the  wayfaring  woman. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  he  asked. 

"To  my  goal,"  replied  the  woman,  not  particularly 
pleased  with  the  unexpected  company. 

"  Rightly  answered,"  responded  the  brown-clad 
man,       "  We  mortals   know  not   whence  we  come  or 


MORNING  LIGHT.  231 

whither    we    go,  but   one    goal    have  we   all, the 

grave.     Is  it  thither  you  are  going  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  not  to  remain  there." 

"  There  are  some,  however,  who  claim  that  the  atom 
is  lost  in  the  infinite." 

"  They  greatly  err." 

"  She  betrays  herself;  she  is  no  peasant-woman. 
.  Very  well,"  thought  the  man  in  brown  to  himself,  and 
afterward  continued  aloud  : 

"  My  friend,  you  are  not  what  you  seem  to  be.  You 
do  not  speak  like  a  peasant  woman." 

"  How  do  I  speak  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  person  of  birth  and  education.  You  go 
disguised  on  secret  business." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  Your  gait,  your  voice,  your  speech, 
all  contradict  your  costume." 

"Think  what  you  please." 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  belong  to  the  secret  police,  and 
am  compelled  to  arrest  you,  if  you  cannot  give  me  a 
convincing  proof  that  you  are  on  legitimate  business. 
Swear  that  you  are  a  peasant  woman,  and  I  will  believe 
that  I  have  been  mistaken." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  affright, 
but  hastened  her  gait  and  did  not  reply. 

The  man  in  brown  looked  around  him.  All  was 
silent  and  lonely  in  the  park.  Then  he  seized  the 
woman  by  the  arm  and  threateningly  said: 

"  If  you  have  such  a  bad  conscience  that  you  can- 
not even  swear  to  your  innocence,  you  must  go  with 
me  to  the  police.  They  have  proper  means  there  to 
get  the  truth  out.  What  do  you  say  to  a  pair  of 
thumb-screws,  for  instance  ?  But  I  will  have  com- 
passion on  you.  Only  swear  that  you  are  the  one  your 
dress  indicates,  and  not  disguised,  then  I  will  let  you, 
unhindered,  continue  your  way." 

"  I  am  Countess  Bertelskuld,  and  command  you  to 
let  go  my  arm! "  said  the  woman,  as  she  threw  back 


232  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

her  head-cloth,  and  looked  fearlessly  at  him  with  her 
large  dark  ej'es. 

But  the  brown-clad  man  was  here  struggling  for 
the  supreme  desire  of  his  life,  and  was  not  disposed  to 
release  his  sure  booty. 

"  So  it  is  you,"  said  he,  "who  have  been  advertised 
in  the  papers  for  having  run  away  from  your  husband  ? 
So  much  the  more  reason  have  I  to  take  you  to  the 
police,  whence  you  will  probably  have  to  go  directly  to 
the  house  of  correction." 

The  woman  colored  deeply,  but  kept  silence.  For 
this  insult  she  had  no  reply.  "  Oh,  Bernhard,  Bern- 
hard!"  thought  she. 

"You  thus  perceive,"  continued  the  pretended 
policeman,  "that  it  depends  altogether  upon  me 
whether  all  the  street  boys  of  Stockholm  shall  soon  be 
pointing  their  finger  at  you.  There  is  only  one  single 
means  for  you  to  escape  the  danger.  Give  me  the 
king's  ring,  and  you  are  free!" 

"You  are  no  policeman;  you  are  a  robber!"  ex- 
claimed the  woman,  as  she  tried  to  pull  herself  loose. 
But  the  hand  of  the  brown-clad  man  held  her  back  as 
in  a  vise. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  been  mistaken,"  said  he,  again 
yielding.  "If  you  have  not  the  ring  you  need  only 
swear  to  that,  and  I  will  believe  you." 

"  You  well  know  that  I  carry  the  miserable  talis- 
man with  me,"  replied  the  woman,  disdainfully; 
"  otherwise  you  would  not,  time  and  again,  have  tried 
to  entice  it  from  me  by  perjury.  But  as  you  know  its 
power,  you  ought  also  to  know  that  all  your  threats 
are  impotent  as  opposed  to  it.  You  will  neither  be 
able  to  kill  me  nor  rob  me.  You  will  only  draw  de- 
struction upon  yourself." 

"Grace!  Grace!"  now  exclaimed  the  man  in 
brown,  as  he  suddenly  let  go  her  arm  and  threw  him- 
self upon  his  knees.  "  You  are  right ;  you  are  under 
the  protection  of  the  planets,  and  I  cannot  steal  your 


MORNING  LIGHT.  233 

treasure  from  you  so  long  as  you  do  not  yourself  for- 
feit the  possession  of  it.  But  have  pity  on  me!  I  am 
a  man  who  has  searched  into  all  the  secrets  of  nature, 
except  this  single  and  greatest  one  which  remains  to 
me.  In  order  to  find  it,  I  have  searched  through  lands 
and  seas,  yes,  I  have  sacrificed  half  of  my  life.  I  can- 
not live  without  that  jewel;  its  mere  existence  frus- 
trates all  my  endeavors,  so  long  as  I  am  not  the  one 
who  owns  and  wears  it.  Have  the  goodness,  then,  to 
give  me  the  ring,  and  I  will  be  your  slave,  your  dog;  I 
will  overwhelm  you  with  fortune  and  gold;  for  you  I 
will  storm  the  very  gates  of  heaven." 

"If  I  should  give  you  the  ring,"  replied  the  peasant- 
woman,  "  I  should  violate  the  first  commandment  in 
God's  law,  and  have  your  soul  on  my  conscience.  But 
this  ring  has  already  caused  enough  evil  in  the  world. 
Therefore  no  one  shall  ever  again  wear  it,  not  even  the 
one  to  whom  by  right  of  inheritance  it  belongs.  I  will 
burn  it  up  in  fire,  since  no  water  will  put  it  out  of  the 
way." 

With  these  words,  she  had  unconsciously  loosened 
the  ring  from  her  finger,  and  the  man  in  brown  caught 
sight  of  it.  Instantly  he  threw  himself  furiously  upon 
her,  to  snatch  the  treasure,  and  he  would  probably 
have  succeeded  if  she  had  not  at  the  same  moment 
thrown  the  dangerous  jewel  as  far  as  she  could  into 
the  park. 

The  man  in  brown  released  her  immediately,  and 
precipitately  seized  his  staff  to  consult  the  compass, 
and  by  its  help  to  look  for  his  treasure  in  the  young 
grass.  This  motion  was  misunderstood  by  a  man  who, 
with  rapid  steps,  was  just  then  approaching  on  the 
foot-path.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  man  in  brown, 
wrenched  the  staff  from  his  hand,  and  broke  the 
crotch  in  pieces  against  the  nearest  stone,  so  that  the 
fragments  of  the  little  box  were  scattered  around  on 
the  ground. 

Once  more  it  was  Jonas  Bertila. 
10* 


234  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"Alas!  my  star-compass!  All  is  lost!"  groaned 
the  brown-clad  man,  as  he  sunk  down  annihiUited  on 
the  sod. 

"It  was  well  that  I  noticed  that  villain  at  the  Great 
Church,  and  saw  him  follow  3'ou,"  said  Jonas  to  the 
woman.  "  '  Look  sharp,  Monsieur  Fox,'  thought  I  to 
myself,  'there  is  nothing  good  in  your  mind.'  And 
then  I  followed  you  in  another  boat,  but  that  lay  to  at 
the  wharf,  and  then  I  altogether  lost  sight  of  you  until 
I  heard  your  voice,  and  saw  that  brown  villain  raise 
the  stick.  Do  you  want  me  to  give  him  a  good  drub- 
bing? He  ought  to  have  a  lathering  for  uncle's  sake, 
and  a  douche  for  yours." 

"  Do  not  touch  him!  With  him  something  great 
lies  in  the  dust,"  said  the  woman,  seriously. 

"  Great  ?  Yes,  if  you  mean  great  rascality  you  are 
quite  right.  What  else  great  can  there  be  lying  in  the 
grass?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  woman,  "there  lies  a  lofty  but 
broken  fragment  of  human  genius.  There  lies  investi- 
gation without  God!  " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    FIRST    TRIAL. 

"  T)RETTY  well  done — you  begin  to  look  fine  now, 
J7  <^6^r  mother,"  said  Cederberg,  the  hair-dresser 
and  court  face-painter,  to  a  peasant  woman  who  had  pre- 
sented herself  to  solicit  his  assistance.  Cederberg  had 
learned  his  art  in  Paris,  and  had  received  an  appoint- 
ment at  the  theater  in  the  time  of  the  late  king.  No 
one  understood  better  than  he  how  to  re-create  people, 
and  under  his  skillful  hand  the  tall  and  still-blooming 
woman,  with  her  black  hair,  and  her  beautiful  expres- 
sive face,  had  been  transformed   to  an  octogenarian 


MORNING  LIGHT.  235 

sibyl,  with  tliin  snow-wliite  hair,  furrowed  brow,  and 
sunken  cheeks. 

"  Now  your  good  man  will  open  his  eyes  when  you 
come  to  read  the  fortune  in  his  palm  on  his  name's- 
day,  and  if  he  recognizes  you  by  the  firelight  you  may 
call  me  a  candy-painter.  But  do  not  blame  me  that  I 
have  painted  you  thirty  years  older  instead  of  thirty 
years  younger.  With  such  eyes  and  teeth  I  could  just 
as  well  have  made  you  into  a  girl  of  twenty.  I  advise 
you,  dear  mother,  to  be  counting  the  boards  in  the 
floor  when  you  try  to  fool  the  old  man,  for  if  dear 
father  gets  sight  of  those  lanterns  in  the  head  of  an 
eighty-year-old  fortune-teller,  he  will  laugh  at  me  and 
all  my  art." 

"  What  are  your  charges  ? "  asked  the  woman,  as 
with  visible  reluctance  she  saw  herself  in  the  glass. 

"  Nine  dollars  for  the  painting,  and  nine  for  the 
use  of  the  false  hair.  That  is  a  shamefully  low  price 
for  thirty  years  on  your  shoulders." 

The  new  octogenarian  paid  him,  enveloped  her 
head  in  her  head-cloth,  and  went  out,  but  not,  as  the 
court  face-painter  believed,  to  her  old  man  in  Ros- 
pigg's  quarter  in  the  southern  suburb,  but  northward 
to  Drottning  Street.  She  there  entered  a  large  house, 
under  her  assumed  name  of  Mora  from  Ostanlid. 

Evening  was  approaching,  and  Count  Bernhard 
Bertelskold  sat  by  his  writing-table  contemplating  a 
paper  which  lay  before  him.  He  was  now  almost  re- 
stored; moreover,  the  wounded  eye  could  again  be 
used,  and  only  a  deep  scar  above  the  left  temple  dis- 
figured his  handsome  forehead.  But  the  former 
mocking  smile  had  altogether  disappeared  from  his 
lips;  he  was  pale  and  serious,  and  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  fought  out  hard  battles  with  the  demoniac 
powers  within  him. 

"  It  was  well  that  you  came,  Mora,"  said  he.  "  I 
need  to  strengthen  myself  with  the  presence  of  my 


236  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

protecting  spirit.  Here  is  my  application  for  discharge 
from  all  my  places  at  court  and  in  diplomacy." 

"  Have  you  reflected  well  ? "  asked  the  faithful 
nurse,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  anything  else  for  the  past 
week,"  he  replied.  "  You  can  imagine  that  it  requires 
a  hard  struggle  to  pull  one's  self  up  by  the  roots  from 
his  whole  past  life,  to  begin  a  new  one.  A  hundred 
times  I  have  tried  to  think  out  a  middle  way,  where  I 
might  at  the  same  time  serve  old  and  new  gods.  But 
it  will  not  do,  Mora;  it  will  not  do  !  My  former  ac- 
quaintances have  again  visited  me  and  jested  over  my 
scruples.  I  should  not  in  the  long  run  hold  out  against 
them;  I  should  be  ashamed  in  their  presence,  and 
again  become  the  same  that  I  once  was.  Only  see 
how  weak  I  have  grown.  Mora,  I  who  thought  myself 
born  a  giant  !  And,  therefore,  I  am  now  going  to 
draw  a  large  black  mark  across  all  the  past,  move 
somewhere  into  the  country,  and  devote  myself  wholly 
to  agriculture.     Do  you  approve  of  my  resolve  ? " 

"  You  will  be  called  a  dreamer,  a  crack-brained 
religious  fanatic." 

*'  I  know  it.  But  if  I  do  not  heed  it,  but  adhere 
to  God  and  my  conscience,  will  I  then  do  right  ? " 

"  You  will  do  right  in  that." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  of  the  same  opinion.  But 
you  know,  Mora,  that  I  have  heavy  troubles,  and  much 
for  which  to  make  amends.  That  political  entangle- 
ment and  the  marchioness  I  can  make  right.  It  is 
not  so  dangerous  with  Paul  either ;  he  is  young,  he 
can  forgive,  and  I  expect  him  to  call  on  me  this  even- 
ing. But  my  step- mother,  you  see,  my  step-mother, — 
she  can  never  forgive  me." 

"  Do  you  think  her  so  cruel  and  revengeful  ?  " 

"  No,  but  reflect  how  angry  I  have  made  her,  how 
mortally  I  have  insulted  her  !  I  have  driven  her  away 
from  home,  husband,  and  child ;  I  have  disgraced  her 
privately  and  publicly,  disgraced   her  in  the  newspa- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  237 

pers  before  all  Sweden.  Why,  she  would  be  more 
than  human  if  she  could  pardon  me  such  atrocious 
injuries." 

"  Try  !  " 

"  How  try  ?  Why,  she  is  not  to  be  found.  No  one 
knows  where  she  is, —  at  least  I  have  no  suspicion  of 
it.  I  will  acknowledge  to  you.  Mora,  that  there  have 
been  moments  when  I  imagined  you  might  be  she. 
There  is  something  in  your  voice  and  form  which  is 
suggestive  of  my  step-mother.  But  the  next  moment 
I  laughed  at  my  foolish  fancy.  No,  the  limit  of  par- 
don I  can  hope  from  my  step-mother  is,  that  she  will 
not  curse  me.  I  can  never  expect  that  she  will  be  able 
to  endure  the  sight  of  me,  and,  therefore,  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  buy  me  an  estate  in  Finland,  in  order 
to  leave  her  undisturbed  at  Falkby.  She  will  feel  safer 
when  there  is  a  sea  between  us." 

"  I  approve  of  your  purpose,  but  the  manner  you 
should  leave  to  God  and  the  future.  Do  you  want  me 
to  read  a  little  for  you  ?  " 

"  Do  so.  I  need  light,  for  I  am  groping  in  great 
darkness." 

And  again  she  read,  from  the  book  rich  in  com- 
fort, of  the  highest  good,  of  peace  and  reconciliation, 
self-denial  and  perfect  devotion  to  God,  besides  which 
no  firm  foundation  is  to  be  found  in  this  world.  While 
she  was  still  reading,  the  counts  Bertelskold,  father  and 
son,  were  announced. 

"  Behold,"  said  Mora  from  Ostanlid,  as  she  with- 
drew behind  her  screen,  "  your  first  trial  is  now  ap- 
proaching. Love  is  knocking  at  your  closed  door,  and 
it  rests  with  you  to  open  or  bolt  it." 

Scarcely  had  she  pronounced  these  words  before 
Paul  entered,  and  with  rapid  steps  walked  toward  his 
brother,  as  though  without  reflection  to  throw  himself 
into  Bernhard's  arms.  But  so  strong  was  the  impres- 
sion of  that  pale,  thin  figure  at  the  writing-table,  and 
of  the  fear,  the  repu^  ^ance  that  Paul,  ever  since  child- 


238  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

hood,  had  felt  for  his  elder  brother,  that  he  paused 
motionless  and  hesitated  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

Bernhard  observed  this,  and,  rising,  went  a  few 
steps  to  meet  Paul.  But  on  him  also  did  the  memory 
of  his  mortal  hatred  produce  such  a  powerful  effect 
that  the  hand  already  extended  sunk  again,  and,  hesi- 
tating and  motionless  as  his  brother,  he  paused  be- 
fore Paul. 

Two  proud  torrents  were  they,  which  were  to  min- 
gle their  surging  billows ;  two  raging  storms  which 
were  to  meet  and  go  in  the  same  direction.  The  mo- 
ment was  decisive  :  a  precipitate  word,  a  doubtful 
look,  and  all  might  be  lost.  No  one  as  yet  knew  with 
certainty  whether  the  two  would  recognize  each  other 
as  brothers,  or  turn  away  from  each  other  as  mortal 
enemies. 

Then  the  old  count,  their  father,  went  to  them  and 
said  earnestly:  "Bernhard  Bertelskold,  there  stands 
your  brother  Paul !  Paul  Bertelskold,  there  stands 
your  brother  Bernhard  !  What  God  hath  joined  to- 
gether, let  not  man  put  asunder." 

No  more  was  needed  to  melt  the  ice  in  the  hearts 
of  the  brothers.  Indeed,  it  had  long  before  been  un- 
dermined by  a  warm  sunshine  which  had  illuminated 
them  both.  Now  the  two  at  the  same  time  opened 
their  arms,  and  the  next  instant  they  were  clasped  in 
each  other's  embrace. 

Then  the  father's  arms  encircled  them.  "  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  weep,"  said  the  gray-haired  nobleman, 
"  when  the  very  angels  of  heaven  must  weep  with 
joy." 

And  the  fourth  ?  —  She  sat  silent,  unknown  and 
hidden,  like  one  of  those  invisible  angels  who  bear 
witness  of  the  victories  of  eternal  love  on  earth;  but 
her  joy  was  the  humblest,  and,  therefore,  the  purest 
of  all. 

Her  time  was  not  yet  come. 

"  And  now,"  said  Paul,  with  a  resolute  face,  as  he 


MORNING  LIGHT.  239 

laughingly  wiped  the  pearls  clear  as  dew  from  his  hand- 
some, dark  eyes,  "  now  everything  shall  again  be  well, 
now  we  will  share  with  each  other  all  the  delight  and 
sorrow  of  life,  and  our  new  alliance  shall  be  sealed 
by...." 

He  interrupted  himself  with  an  embarrassed  look. 
He  did  not  yet  know  what  he  ventured  to  think  of  his 
brother. 

"  ....  By  our  mother !  "  said  Bernhard,  promptly. 

That  was  the  iirst  time  Paul  had  heard  him  say  our 
mother.  "  I  thank  you,"  said  he,  with  a  warm  pressure 
of  the  hand. 

"  And  I  bless  you,  my  son,  for  the  greatest  victory 
a  mortal  can  win — victory  over  self." 

"  Father,"  rejoined  Paul,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
the  flood  of  his  emotions,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  all,  but  I 
know  that  during  the  absence  of  our  mother  she  has 
not  been  indifferent  to  our  weal,  and  I  hope  our  recon- 
ciliation shall  restore  her  to  us." 

"  That  is  also  the  hope  which  has  sustained  me 
under  all  my  afflictions,"  said  the  old  count;  "and  I 
have  ceased  from  all  my  searchings,  in  order  that  her 
return  may  depend  on  her  own  choice." 

"  What  if  I  have  guessed  rightly  ! "  said  Bernhard, 
musing.  "  What  if  my  foolish  presentiment  has  not  de- 
ceived me  !  The  joy  of  the  reunion  is  perhaps  nearer 
than  we  think.  Mora  from  Ostanlid,  I  have  something 
to  request  of  you." 

She  stepped  tremblingly  forth. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  you  promised  me  ?  When, 
not  only  by  word,  but  also  by  deed,  I  proved  myself 
not  the  same  as  before,  you  promised  to  reveal  to  me 
the  face  of  my  protecting  angel.  Do  you  regard  me 
now  as  having  fulfilled  the  conditions  you  proposed  ?" 

"You  have  begun,"  she  whispered. 

"  Then  it  devolves  upon  you  to  fulfill  your  promise 
to  me." 

The  room  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  single  lamp  on 
the  writing  table,   for  Bernhard's  eye  could  not   yet 


240  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

bear  a  stronger  light.  Mora  from  Ostanlid  advanced 
in  the  half  obscurity,  and  unwound  the  cloth  she  wore 
around  her  head.  Paul  trembled,  for  he  recognized 
the  garb;  Bernhard  trembled  with  upbraidings  of  con- 
science, and  the  old  count  regarded  the  scene  with 
mute  surprise. 

But  when  the  head-cloth  was  removed,  all  saw  be- 
neath it  the  form  of  an  old  woman  of  eighty,  with 
snow-white  hair,  furrowed  brow,  withered  cheeks  and 
downcast  eyes. 

The  expectation  of  all  was  defeated,  and  the  fleet- 
ing hope  changed  to  dejection.  "  What  a  fool  I  am 
to  think  myself  worthy  of  seeing  her  again  !  "  exclaimed 
Bernhard  Bertelskold.  "  But  whoever  you  may  be, 
unknown,  mysterious  being,  my  gratitude  and  admira- 
tion belong  to  you  for  my  whole  life  !  " 

The  octogenarian  did  not  reply.  She  made  haste 
to  conceal  her  face  again,  and  with  a  thorn  in  her  heart 
hurried  out. 

"What  have  I  done?"  she  moaned.  "  May  God 
forgive  me,  for  it  must  have  been  a  sin;  the  still,  small 
voice  within  me  plainly  tells  me  so.  Thou  knowest, 
my  God,  that  I  did  it  with  a  good  intent,  for  Bernhard 
still  stands  hesitating  at  the  gates  of  the  kingdom. 
But  I  have  deceived  my  best  beloved — oh,  it  was  a 
terrible  moment !     I  am  not  born  to  deceive  .  .  .  .  " 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  CONSPIRATOR  AND  THE  PRIVATE  SECRETARY. 

"  T  T  can  be  done,  your  majesty,  it  can  be  done  !  " 

_|_      said   Colonel  Jacob   Magnus  Sprengtport,   one 

day  in  the   middle  of   May,  when    he  had  a  private 

evening  audience  with  the  king.    "  My  brother  is  about 


MORNING  LIGHT.  241 

to  go  over  to  Finland  to  inaugurate  the  business,  and 
awhile  afterward  I  will  follow  him.  The  officers  of 
the  garrison  of  Sveaborg  are  most  of  them  Hats,  and 
consequently  discontented  and  ready  for  any  change 
whatever.  Through  them  I  believe  myself  able  to 
incite  the  garrison,  and  when  the  business  is  once  in 
motion  I  believe  I  can  also  answer  for  the  light  dra- 
goons at  Borga." 

"  Do  you  think  it  so  easy  to  incite  the  Finns  ?  " 
asked  the  king.  "  I  have  heard  that  that  nation  is 
obstinate  in  everything,  even  in  its  fidelity." 

"  For  that  very  reason,  your  majesty.  If  there  is 
any  nation  more  devoted  to  royalty  than  are  the 
Swedes  themselves,  it  is  those  Finnish  bears  over  there. 
To  be  unfaithful  to  the  form  of  government  is  at  the 
present  time  the  same  as  being  faithful  to  the  king. 
And  if  a  little  intrigue  would  be  of  service,  there  are 
means  of  getting  the  people  also  in  motion.  Councilor 
Reuterholm  knows  that  best.  He  has  performed  a 
miracle,  he  has  instigated  my  well-behaved  and  sleepy 
inspector- general  in  Gammelbacka  to  institute  pro- 
ceedings against  me  before  the  estates,  and  he  has  suc- 
ceeded so  well  that  unless  your  majesty  will  deign  to 
accept  a  more  powerful  crown  I  am  ruined.  You  there 
see,"  artfully  added  the  colonel,  "why  I  am  obliged  to 
be  a  royalist,  from  mere  desperation,  if  I  were  not 
from  conviction,  and  why  your  majesty  can  depend  on 
me  as  the  hilt  on  the  blade." 

"  And  afterward  your  idea  is  ....  " 

"  Afterward  my  idea  is  to  bring  the  trustworthy 
troops  across  on  some  vessels  of  the  navy  which  are 
lying  at  Sveaborg.  Some  fine  evening  the  Finns  will 
come  ashore  at  Erstavik  near.  I  have  my  outposts, 
the  vessels  are  signaled,  a  multitude  of  representatives 
and  officers  who  can  be  depended  upon  hasten  to  meet 
the  Finns  .  .  .  .  " 

"  But  you  see  that  would  be  a  tout  prix  throwing 
ourselves  into  the  arms  of  the  Finns  !  No,  my  dear 
11 


242  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

baron,  my  Swedish  troops  would  look  upon  that  as  a 
lack  of  confidence." 

"  The  Finns,  your  majesty,  are  only  made  to  be 
used  as  wedges,  which  are  driven  in  to  split  knots,  and 
afterward  it  is  the  ax  which  completes  the  work.  The 
real  coup  de  main,  therefore,  ought  to  be  reserved  to 
the  Swedish  troops.  The  garrison  of  Stockholm  will 
be  carefully  informed,  and  will  march  in  the  night  to 
meet  the  Finns." 

"  But  the  nights  are  light." 

"  That  cursed  light — I  beg  pardon — brings  about 
nothing  but  confusion.  But  fortunately  there  is  no 
one  but  Pechlin  who  has  eyes  in  his  head,  and  we  will 
discover  some  plan  of  managing  him.  The  others  are 
not  dangerous,  they  draw  the  nightcap  over  the  ears 
down  to  the  very  nose." 

"  Go  on  !  " 

"  After  the  garrison  has  made  common  cause  with 
the  Finns,  the  meal  is  served,  and  your  majesty  is  most 
humbly  invited  to  the  table.  That  is  to  say,  your 
majesty  will  have  the  grace  to  appear  at  the  landing 
and  harangue  the  troops,  in  order  afterward  at  their 
head  to  march  into  the  metropolis.  Here  your  majesty 
places  himself  at  the  head  of  the  guard.  The  council 
and  the  leaders  of  the  Caps  are  arrested,  the  estates 
are  called  by  heralds  to  the  assembly-room,  and  a  new 
form  of  government  is  presented  for  their  ratification. 
It  will  go  off  like  a  comedy.  The  end  will  be  what  is 
right — a  marriage  between  the  power  and  the  crown, 
and  the  spectators  will  applaud." 

"  But,  my  dear  baron,  such  comedies  sometimes 
end  in  tragedies.  As  a  child  I  have  been  witness  to 
them." 

"  Oh,  your  majesty,  it  depends  only  on  the  actors 
not  breaking  down,  and  we  must  look  out  for  a  capable 
prompter.  For  the  rest,  it  is  not  my  plan  to  stake 
everything  on  one  card.  We  must  assure  ourselves  of 
some  of  the  southern  fortresses,  for  instance  Christian- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  243 

stad.  In  order  to  suppress  that  criminal  insurrection, 
your  majesty  draws  together  an  army,  and  a  king  at 
the  head  of  an  army  has  a  marvelous  power  to  convince 
the  people  of  their  patriotic  principles." 

King  Gustaf 's  large  blue  eyes  rested  with  a  peculiar 
expression  of  prudent  caution  on  the  bold  intriguer. 
He  had  not  yet  consented  to  anything,  not  yet  had 
he  laid  his  crown  and  his  fame  in  the  hands  of  a  sub- 
ject. 

"  I  will  think  of  your  proposal,"  said  he. 

''  Pardon,  sire,  while  the  gardener  sleeps  the  weeds 
grow.  While  your  majesty  is  thinking,  there  are  others 
who  are  acting.     Now  or  never  !  " 

"  And  who  will  warrant  that  you  will  not  plunge 
the  kingdom  into  civil  war,  and  draw  disaster  upon 
yourself  and  my  most  faithful  adherents  ?" 

"  Who  ?  Csesar's  luck  and  money,  your  majesty.  I 
need  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"  Well,  my  dear  baron,  will  you  lend  me  a  hundred 
ducats  on  my  honest  face  ?  " 

"  iV  hundred  thousand,  your  majesty,  if  I  had  them. 
But  in  revolutions,  as  in  war,  the  first  condition  is 
money,  the  second  is  money,  and  the  third  once  more 
money.  It  must  be  procured,  even  if  we  are  obliged 
to  coin  moonlight.  Has  not  your  majesty  some  sor- 
cerer who  can  do  that  ?  I  have  heard  that  French- 
men, like  Finns,  understand  witchcraft." 

"  Voyons.     I  will  try  an  incantation." 

"  So  your  majesty  consents  ?  " 

"  To  what  ?  " 

"To  my  humble  proposal." 

King  Gustaf  smiled.  "  I  consent,"  said  he,  "  not 
to  follow  the  example  of  your  inspector-general,  and 
institute  proceedings  against  you  before  the  estates. 
For  the  rest,  you  can  be  assured  of  my  royal  favor." 

"  And  authority  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  to  go  to  Finland  and  buy  horses  for  the 
artillery." 


244  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

'*  I  most  humbly  thank  you,  and  shall  place  my- 
self under  the  direction  of  your  majesty's  gracious 
will." 

The  audience  was  ended. 

"  He  is  as  ambitious  as  his  mother,  and  as  timid  as 
his  father,  but  I  am  going  to  send  him  before  me  as 
out  of  a  cannon,"  thought  Sprengtport,  as  he  with- 
drew. 

"  He  is  a  fuse  leading  to  the  powder  magazine,  but 
we  must  look  out  that  everything  is  not  blown  up," 
thought  the  king,  as  he  dismissed  his  bold  and  danger- 
ous subject. 

He  touched  the  bell,  and  the  adjutant  on  duty  ap- 
peared. 

"Call  hither  the  young  man  who  is  awaiting  au- 
dience." 

Shortly  afterward  Paul  Bertelskold,  still  pale  from 
his  wound,  entered. 

"Your  name  is  Bertelskold,  son  of  the  count  at 
Falkby  ? ' 

"Yes,  your  majesty." 

"Student?" 

Paul  bowed  assent. 

"  What  have  you  studied  ?  " 

"Natural  sciences,  history,  and  geography." 

"  Then  you  have  probably  not  studied  any  language 
but  your  mother-tongue  ?  " 

"  Some,  your  majesty." 

"  What  ones  ?  " 

"  French,  German,  English,  Italian,  and   Russian." 

"^;z^/>/,  that  is  really 'some.'  How  did  you  hit 
upon  the  idea  of  studying  Russian  ?" 

"  In  Abo,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Russian 
deserter." 

"  Very  well.  Here  is  a  diploma  of  a  Russian 
order  which  has  been  sent  to  me.  Translate  it  for 
me." 

Paul  did  so  without  faltering. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  245 

"  That  is  good,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "  I  have 
been  told  that  you  have  uncommon  acquirements,  and 
I  have  not  called  you  hither  to  undergo  an  examination. 
Are  you  discreet  ?  " 

"  If  your  majesty  will  be  pleased  to  try  me,  I  will 
not  be  found  unworthy  of  my  name." 

"  Oh,  there   are  many   kinds  of  noblemen  .... 
your  brother,  for  instance.     But  can  you   keep  secrets 
on  which  your  head  depends,  and  more  than  that  ?  " 

"  I  can  go  to  the  death  for  what  I  regard  as  right." 

The  king  eyed  him  sharply.  "  And  if  you  do  not 
regard  a  thing  as  right,  what  do  you  do  then  ?  " 

"  I  resign  a  confidence  which  I  cannot  answer." 

''  How  ?  You  are  rather  positive,  my  young  sir  !  " 

"  I  cannot  compromise  my  conscience,  but  neither 
can  I  betray  the  confidence  of  my  king  or  of  any  one 
else." 

"  My  friend,  in  the  service  of  the  king,  people  do  not 
reflect.     They  do  not  reason,  they  obey." 

"  Pardon,  your  majesty  !  I  cannot  serve  on  other 
terms.  " 

"  Au  diable !  What  do  you  expect  me  to  do  with 
such  officials  ?  Go  away  !  You  can  be  a  spread-eagle 
speech-maker  at  the  diet,  like  the  others  ;  but  you  will 
not  do  for  my  service." 

Paul  bowed,  and  was  about  to  depart. 

"  Stay  !  "  said  the  king,  with  wrinkled  brows.  "You 
are  acquainted  with  Russian,  and  that  might  perhaps 
be  of  use.  Do  you  know  you  have  been  recommended 
to  succeed  Gyllengham  as  my  private  secretary,  as  I 
cannot  make  use  of  him  ?  " 

"I  no  longer  ventured  to  hope  that." 

"Well,  why  in  heaven's  name  are  you  then  throw- 
ing away  your  good  fortune  by  uttering  one  sottise  after 
another  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  tell  your  majesty  anything  but  the 
truth." 

"  Foi  de gentilhojnme,"  said  the  easily  appeased  king, 


246  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

laughing.  "  If  you  think  of  being  such  a  prodigy  at 
my  court,  I  really  have  an  inclination  to  try  what  you 
are  fit  for.  But  take  care,  young  man,  I  warn  you 
about  the  other  messieurs  et  viesdames  de  la  coiir.  At 
the  very  best  they  are  going  to  scratch  out  your  eyes. 
Enfin,  to-morrow  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  you  will  pre- 
sent yourself  before  Count  Scheffer  to  receive  instruc- 
tions, and  afterwards  we  will  have  you  in  gracious 
remembrance." 

Paul,  believing  the  audience  ended,  was  for  the  sec- 
ond time  about  to  withdraw,  but  the  king  motioned  him 
to  remain. 

"  Something  has  occurred  to  me,"  said  he.  "Can 
you  write  your  mother-tongue  correctly  ?  " 

Paul  assured  him  that  he  believed  himself  versed  in 
that  remarkable  art,  which,  as  everybody  knew,  was  not 
the  king's  strong  point. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  draw  crow's-feet  on  the  paper, 
like  all  young  scholars?  Write  something.  I  want  to 
see  your  hand-writing." 

Paul  picked  up  the  pen  on  the  king's  table,  and  in  a 
brilliant,  beautiful  chirography  wrote  a  quotation  from 
the  Henriad  : 

"  La  ve'ritd  scule  est  grande,  la  vertu  scale  est  aitn- 
abler  * 

"  H'm,"  said  the  king,  evidently  satisfied;  "you 
shall  begin  your  duties  with  a  very  important  trust. 
You  shall  write  out  the  roles  oi  Thetis  and  Pelee." 

*Truth  alone  Is  great,  virtue  alone  is  lovely. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  247 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A    GREAT    ACTOR. 

ONE  morning,  or  rather  noon,  for  it  was  nearly 
twelve  o'clock.  King  Gustaf,  in  his  blue  silk  dress- 
ing gown,  was  sitting  at  the  writing-table,  engaged  in 
once  more  reading  over  a  letter  which  he  had  drawn 
up  during  the  previous  sleepless  night.  A  couple  of 
hours  of  unquiet  slumber  in  the  morning  had  not  been 
able  to  recall  the  color  to  his  cheeks.  He  was  pale  and 
dejected,  but  the  soft  hand  of  his  young  wife  was  not 
permitted  to  smooth  the  wrinkles  from  his  forehead. 
Dangers  were  accumulating  at  every  point,  and  where 
was  the  power  to  be  found  strong  enough  to  exorcise 
them  !  Here  availed  neither  faith  in  fate,  nor  the 
maxims  of  Voltaire.  Reality,  like  a  threatening  spec- 
ter, confronted  him  ;  he  knew  that  his  enemies  were 
negotiating  for  an  alliance  with  Russia  and  England, 
and  that  alliance  might  be  the  grave  of  all  his  proud 
hopes,  perhaps  of  himself.  The  moment  in  which  to 
act  had  arrived,  and  yet  action  itself  was  a  game  of 
chance,  in  which  everything  was  at  stake. 

The  letter  which  the  king,  contrary  to  his  custom, 
was  so  carefully  reading  through  before  it  was  to 
leave,  was  addressed  in  cipher  to  the  King  of  France, 
and  in  obscure  words  contained  a  notification  of  an 
important  change  which  must  soon  take  place  in 
Sweden,  and  for  which  the  king  begged  the  support  of 
the  friendship  of  France. 

After  a  moment's  silence.  King  Gustaf  folded  the 
paper,  put  it  with  unusual  care  into  another  envelope, 
sealed  it  with  his  own  hand,  and  then  gave  it  to  his 


248 


TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


private  secretary,  who  had  sat  up  with  him  all  night  to 
attend  to  the  correspondence. 

"To  Count  Creutz  in  Paris,"  said  he. 

The  secretary  took  the  envelope,  and  wrote  the  ad- 
dress upon  it. 

"Have  you  remembered  all  the  titles  of  the  count?" 
inquired  the  king. 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,"  replied  Paul  Bertelskold. 

"  Very  well.     Is  the  courier  ready  ?  " 

"  He  is  waiting  in  the  ante-room." 

"  See  that  he  sets  out  immediately,  and  without 
speaking  to  any  one." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  your  majesty." 

Wearied  out,  the  king  threw  himself  into  an  easy 
chair,  and  his  usually  animated  countenance  expressed 
a  dejection  which  bordered  upon  despair.  "  One  plank, 
one  single  plank  on  which  I  can  safely  step  !  "  he 
moaned  almost  inaudibly. 

It  was  announced  that  Baron  Dtiben,  president  of 
the  chancer}',  and  a  leader  of  the  Caps,  requested 
audience. 

"  My  hair-dresser  !  "  exclaimed  the  king  quickly, 
for  he  had  not  yet  made  his  morning  toilet,  and  he 
could  not  possibly,  in  deshabilU,  receive  the  president 
of  the  chancery. 

The  hair-dresser  performed  his  business  with  dex- 
terity, and  the  valet  vied  with  him  in  activity.  A  deli- 
cate, almost  imperceptible  paint  was  applied  to  the  pale 
cheeks,  and  before  long  the  king,  with  beaming  coun- 
tenance, walked  out  into  the  audience  room. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  you,  my  dear  baron," 
said  he.  "  I  hope  you  are  well,  and  that  our  amiable 
neighbors,  their  majesties  of  Russia  and  Denmark,  allow 
us  to  sleep  in  tranquillity.  What  do  you  suppose  I 
dreamed  about  the  empress  last  night?" 

"  Does  your  majesty  entertain  any  apprehensions?" 
asked  Baron  Duben,  anxiously.  He  was  sent  out  by 
people  more  sagacious  than  himself,  to  sound  the  plans 


MORNIiVG  LIGHT.  249 

of  the  king,  and  try  to  find  out  whether  the  majesty  of 
the  reahn  had  any  suspicious  designs  against  liberty. 

"Apprehensions  ?  Ah,  my  dear  baron,  what  do  you 
think  of  me  ?"  said  the  king,  lightly.  "  I  am  a  married 
man;  do  you  think  me  in  a  condition  to  be  jealous  of 
Count  Orloff  ?  No,  I  will  confide  a  matter  to  you,  but 
which  for  the  present  will  remain  cjitz-e  nous.  What  do 
you  say  to  our  sending  her  majesty  our  royal  order  of 
the  Seraphim?" 

"  That  would  be  one  way  of  laying  such  a  power- 
ful neighbor  under  obligation  to  you,"  replied  the  presi- 
dent of  the  chancery,  greatly  calmed. 

"  Bound  in  chains,*  that  is  also  my  opinion.  But 
it  is  a  matter  which  has  caused  me  great  perplexity. 
Suppose  we  really  do  send  the  chain  of  the  Seraphim 
to  a  woman, — something  unusual  if  not  unprecedented, 
— then  the  question  arises:  how  is  her  czarinian  majesty 
to  wear  our  badge  ?  Is  she  to  wear  it  with  or  without 
the  costume  of  the  order  ?  What  is  your  opinion  ?  Is 
she  to  wear  the  chain  on  the  neck  alone,  or  over  the 
shoulders  and  corsage  ?  Would  it  not  be  advisable  to 
get  the  opinion  of  the  council  on  such  an  important 
question  ?  For,  to  wear  our  principal  order  with  non- 
chalaiice  would  be  to  compromise  the  dignity  of  the 
realm." 

"Your  majesty  is  perfectly  right  —  that  is  a  very 
important  question,"  responded  Baron  Diiben,  very 
seriously,  but  secretly  smiling  at  a  king  who  was  naive 
enough  to  lie  and  dream  about  such  things  while  others 
were  grasping  after  his  crown. 

'■'■  N'est  ce  pasV  covXw'wxQ.A  the  king,  greatly  inter- 
ested. "  We  must  make  ourselves  accurately  informed 
of  the  rules  for  the  order  of  the  garter  and  of  the 
golden  fleece.  I  cannot  see  why  the  empress  could  not 
accommodate  her  toilet  in  a  suitable  manner  to  resemble 
the  costume  of  the  order ;  and  as  a  model,  we  could  let 

♦Referring  to  the  chain  of  the  badge. 


250  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

a  cartoon  accompany  it  in  our  colors.  Her  majesty 
will  then  have  an  opportunity  to  satisfy  herself  about 
our  taste." 

"  Well,  thank  God,  there  is  no  danger  in  that 
quarter  f"  thought  the  president  of  the  chancery,  as 
he  presently  withdrew,  after  he  had  for  appearance' 
sake  referred  to  the  king  the  confirmation  of  some 
unimportant  nominations  in  the  diplomatic  corps. 

When  he  had  gone,  the  king  gave  orders  not  to 
admit  any  one.  More  than  ever  exhausted,  he  threw 
himself  into  an  arm-chair,  the  muscles  of  his  face 
relaxed,  and  he  sunk  into  a  gloomy  meditation  upon  his 
unhappy  situation. 

"  It  may  cost  blood,  much  blood  !  "  he  whispered, 
and  his  tender  heart  shuddered  for  the  consequences. 

"  But  I  must  have  audience,  I  have  extremely  im- 
portant business  to  communicate  ! "  was  just  then 
heard  in  an  animated  woman's  voice  in  the  ante-cham- 
ber, and  the  king  recognized  the  voice  of  Marchioness 
Egmont. 

"  The  marchioness  will  have  audience,"  said  the 
king  to  the  valet,  who  was  entering,  in  embarrass- 
ment. 

And  when  the  lovely  French  woman  came  dancing 
in,  as  lightly  and  capriciously  as  though  she  had  been 
at  home  here,  she  found  the  king,  as  the  president  had 
found  him,  radiant  with  all  the  charms  of  youth  and 
grace,  with  sunshine  on  his  smooth  forehead,  and  play- 
ful merriment  in  his  large,  handsome  eyes. 

"  Be  pleased,  your  majesty,  to  pardon  my  boldness," 
said  the  marchioness,  as  unconcernedly  as  if  she  had 
stepped  on  the  foot  of  a  cadet.  "  I  do  not  come  with- 
out important  reasons." 

"A  visit  from  you,  madame,  is  of  itself  an  extremely 
important  reason,"  replied  the  king,  with  his  complaisant 
smile,  and  yet  not  without  a  needle-point  in  the  reply, 
for  he  was  extremely  sensitive  about  his  royal  dignity. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  £51 

"  Is  there  anything  besides  which  has  given  me  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  ?  " 

The  marchioness  made  the  most  graceful  of  cour- 
tesies, according  to  all  the  rules  of  the  art,  and  fear- 
lessly replied: 

"  Nothing,  except  a  declaration  of  war  by  Russia." 

"  How  ?  "  exclaimed  the  king,  starting  involunta- 
rily, for  the  air  was  laden  with  wonderful  things,  and 
the  ladies  of  the  upper  aristocracy  were  at  that  time  the 
most  excellent  political  barometers. 

"  By  Russia,  England,  France,  ,  .  .  .  " 

"  Then  I  am  calm.' 

"In  short,  by  all  Europe.  People  are  utterly  exas- 
perated with  your  majesty.  It  is  claimed  that  your 
majesty  wishes  to  transform  bright  spring  to  winter, 
by  withdrawing  from  the  world,  and  becoming  a  new 
hermit  of  Chaussee  d'Antin.  Eight  days  without  a 
cour  at  the  court, — the  world  is  going  under!  Scarcely 
a  paltry  parade,  and  not  a  pleasure  party  to  Drottning- 
holm  or  Ulricsdal, — and  that  I  venture  to  call  a  total 
eclipse  of  the  sun!  The  ministers  growl,  the  poets 
drape  their  lyres  with  crape,  and  all  Sweden  is  in  de- 
spair. As  to  my  sex,  it  will  have  the  honor  of  leading 
the  rebels  at  the  impending  revolution." 

"  Your  sex,  madame,  shall  not  escape  its  deserved 
punishment,  and  you  shall  yourself  make  the  beginning 
by  playing  Calypso  at  the  next  divertisseme/ii.  Provided, 
however,  that  you  are  satisfied  with  the  Telemachus  I 
have  intended  for  you." 

"  Who  is  it,  if  I  may  venture  to  ask  ?  " 

"  My  new  private  secretary.  I  remember  that  you 
recommended  him  with  an  eloquence  which  was  im- 
mensely becoming  to  you." 

"Is  your  majesty  not  pleased  with  my protrgt'?" 
asked  the  marchioness,  as  with  playful  hand  she  spread 
her  fan,  which  was  ornamented  with  the  most  exquisite 
work  in  mother-of-pearl. 


1^ 


252  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  I  have  somewhat  against  him.  Only  the  medi- 
ocrity are  fit  for  machines." 

"  Then  make  use  of  him  where  his  heart  can  serve 
your  majesty  just  as  faithfully  as  his  head." 

"  I  am  charmed  that  you  repeat  your  rdle  with  so 
much  naturalness,  so  much  talent.  You  are  going  to 
be  an  unsurpassable  Calypso.  But  apropos  des  bottes," 
continued  the  king,  suddenly  changing  tone,  "what 
advices  do  you  get  from  Paris?  " 

"  It  succeeds,  and  it  does  not  succeed,"  replied  the 
marchioness,  lowering  her  voice.   "Aiguillon  is  for  us." 

"  I  was  sure  of  that." 

*'  Rochefoucauld  is  with  us  in  the  matter.  All  Choi- 
seul's  former  friends  are  working  with  the  greatest 
zeal  for  your  majesty." 

"  Poor  Choiseul  !  But  that  is  no  recommendation 
for  us." 

"  La  Brilliere  and  his  adherents  are  on  the  opposite 
side." 

"  Diable  !     I  could  believe  that." 

"  De  la  Marck  and  De  Boufflers  are  setting  every- 
thing in  motion.     My  aunt  is  indefatigable." 

"  Then  I  again  breathe.  Your  aunt,  madame,  has 
in  all  the  world  only  one  rival,  and  that  is  yourself." 

"  Alas,  sire,  my  worst  news  comes  last.  Du  Barry 
is  bought  by  the  English  minister." 

"  What  do  you  say!  Du  Barry  ?  Good  Heaven! 
why,  then  all  is  lost  !  The  power  of  Du  Barry  is 
greater  than  that  of  the  king  himself." 

"  So  it  is,  your  majesty.  She  has  already  forgotten 
that  magnificent  necklace  of  jewels  which  you  gave  her 
lap-dog.  We  must  offer  her  more  than  England,  and, 
for  that,  mountains  of  gold  will  not  suffice." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  King  Gustaf  gloomily.  "  It 
has  gone  so  far  that  I  must  cringe  before  a  woman 
whom  I  despise." 

"  Never,  your  majesty,"  replied  the  marchioness, 
with  high-borne  head.     "  You  have  done  so  once,  sire, 


MORNING  LIGHT.  253 

and  you  now  see  what  you  gained  by  it  But  if  I  were 
in  your  place,  I  would  sink,  rather  than  for  the  second 
time  condescend  to  a — degradation." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  king  once  more  sunk 
into  a  dejection  which  he  no  longer  troubled  himself  to 
conceal.  Then  the  marchioness,  in  her  former  cheer- 
ful tone,  said  : 

"  Does  your  majesty  really  believe  that  I  have  come 
hither  only  to  tell  your  majesty  such  disagreeable 
news?  No,  pardon;  my  humble  intention  was  to  ask 
if  your  majesty  would  be  pleased  to  grant  me  the 
favor  of  seeing  your  majesty  at  a  little  dejeuner  di/m- 
toire  which  I  have  had  arranged  at  Brunswick.  The 
weather  is  charming,  and  your  majesty  shall  find  only 
faithful  friends." 

"  Very  well,"  said  King  Gustaf,  and  the  cloud  on 
his  forehead  again  vanished  for  a  short  time,  like  mis^ 
in  the  sunshine. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE  FESTIVAL  AT  THE  ZOOLOGICAL    GARDEN. 

THE  little  hunter's  lodge  near  Brunswick  was  un- 
recognizable. Its  old  walls  were  hardly  to  be 
seen  for  leaves  and  flowers  ;  from  the  windows  fluttered 
little  blue  and  gold  flags  of  silk,  and  the  steps  resem- 
bled a  bower  of  roses.  And  yet  this  was  only  a  provi- 
sion against  a  possible  rain.  The  place  which  Mar- 
chioness Egmont  had  chosen  for  her  rural  dejeuner 
dinatoire  was  a  pretty  green  meadow  between  leafy  hil- 
locks with  a  view  of  the  bay,  and  was  situated  further 
toward  the  interior  of  the  park. 

Here  tables  had  been  spread  for  thirty  persons, — • 
that  was  the  extent  of  the  company,  but  the  arrange- 


254  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

nients  were  all  the  more  exquisite.  The  marchioness 
knew  her  royal  guest:  like  the  butterfly,  he  lived  on 
honey  and  the  fragrance  of  flowers;  he  ate  little  and 
quickly,  but  liked  sweet  things;  drank  just  as  little,  but 
yet  could  spend  hours  at  the  table.  The  coarser  en- 
joyments were  lightly  esteemed  by  him,  but  subtle 
wit,  happy  grace,  the  playful  jest,  brilliant  men,  lovely 
women,  taste  in  the  arrangement,  care  jn  the  toilets, 
the  new,  the  ingenious,  the  intellectual,  the  surprising, 
gayety,  bright  colors,  and  a  flattery  so  extremely  deli- 
cate that  it  was  scarcely  perceived  except  like  an  odor 
of  oranores  carried  by  the  wind,  —  that  was  what 
Gustaf  111  loved,  and  what  his  inventive  hostess  had 
sought  to  prepare  for  him. 

She  had  been  royally  lavish.  She  had  emptied 
all  the  Stockholm  conservatories  of  roses  and  narcis- 
suses, and  when  there  were  no  more  she  had  exhausted 
all  the  milliners'  stocks  of  artificial  flowers.  But  then 
there  was  not  an  oak,  a  linden  or  a  poplar,  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  whose  top  was  not  strewed  with 
flowers.  Even  the  larch-trees  and  pines,  which  were 
here  and  there  seen  to  mingle  their  darker  tone  with 
the  lighter  masses  of  foliage,  found  themselves  with 
surprise  adorned  like  Christmas  trees  with  gariands 
of  roses  and  a  network  of  tinsel  paper.  It  was  some- 
what comical  to  behold  the  hundreds  of  little  song- 
birds which  were  swarming  around  everywhere,  with 
astonishment  and  curiosity,  hopping  from  branch  to 
branch  in  the  trees  so  unwontedly  fitted  out,  pecking 
to  examine  what  all  those  astonishing  bits  of  finery 
might  really  be  good  for. 

It  was  quite  French,  this  dressing  up  nature  in  arti- 
ficial flowers  ;  but  the  marchioness  did  not  think  of 
that.     It  was  something  new,  and  it  looked  pretty. 

She  had  also  looked  out  for  a  little  flock  of  sheep. 
There  were  six  snow-white  lambs,  led  in  red  silken 
ribbons  by  little  girls  who  were  intended  to  represent 
shepherdesses.     The  attendants  at  the  table  were  cos- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  255 

turned  as  fawns,  satyrs,  bacchantes  and  forest-nymphs. 
Two  negroes  shaded  the  table  with  a  broad  umbrella. 
A  pretty  Peruvian  girl  stood  ready  every  moment  to 
waft  coolness  with  a  large  fan  representing  a  bird  of 
paradise.  A  little  blue-eyed  naiad  poured  lemonade 
out  of  an  improvised  fountain  at  the  foot  of  an  old 
oak.  A  little  faun  blew  the  flute.  The  semi-circular 
table  was  spread  in  the  form  of  a  G,  and  the  Roman 
III,  which  ought  to  follow,  were  represented  by  three 
small  oblong  tables  side  by  side,  with  three  covers 
each  ; — the  first  for  the  king,  Princess  Sophia  Albertina 
and  Countess  De  La  Gardie;  the  second  for  the  host- 
ess, Prince  Frederick  and  Count  Scheffer;  the  third  for 
the  favorite,  Baron  Sinclair,  Countess  Lewenhaupt,  and 
Lady  Fersen.  Prince  Charles  was  absent,  being  with 
the  fleet  in  Carlskrona. 

A  glorious  sunshine,  and  a  warm  spring-breeze 
which  set  all  the  blossom-wreathed  tree-tops  swinging 
and  all  the  fans  fluttering,  completed  the  picture.  Gus- 
taf  III,  like  all  great  or  somewhat  great  Swedish  kings, 
had  luck  in  weather. 

Dinner  was  now  ended  in  the  cheeriest  mood,  and 
with  side-splitting  merriment,  which  reached  the  ut- 
most margin  of  court  etiquette,  but  not  a  hair's  breadth 
beyond  it,  for  the  king  tolerated  no  raillery  with  his 
dignity.  He  called  himself  "  the  first  citizen  of  a  free 
people,"  but  if  the  second  citizen  of  the  kingdom 
turned  his  back  to  the  first  one,  it  was  all  over  with 
royal  favor. 

After  dinner  the  king  offered  the  marchioness  his 
arm,  and  the  company  set  out  on  a  promenade  in  the 
park.  On  an  eminence  with  an  unobstructed  view,  the 
marchioness  had  been  thoughtful  enough  to  have  some 
sofas  placed. 

"  Do  you  see,"  said  the  king,  "  that  little  cottage  over 
there  on  the  other  side  of  the  bay?  I  do  not  suppose 
it  will  eclipse  Versailles  or  Trianon,  but  come  back  in 


256  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

ten  years,  and  you  shall  see  what  I  have  made  of  my 
Haga  !  " 

"  Say  a  century,  sire,  just  as  well,  for  if  I  live  ten 
years  I  shall  surely  live  a  hundred,  and  in  eighteen 
hundred  and  seventy-two  I  will  have  the  honor  of  sol- 
iciting your  majesty's  arm  to  admire  the  institutions 
founded  by  your  majesty." 

"You  give  me  plenty  of  time,  my  lady,"  said  the 
king,  smiling,  "  and  the  only  danger  is  that  in  eighteen 
hundred  and  seventy-two  you  will  see  ruins  instead  of 
pleasure-palaces.  But  what  do  you  think  of  the  zoo- 
logical garden  ?  " 

"  The  same  as  of  Sweden,"  replied  the  marchioness; 
"  a  glorious  wilderness,  a  chaos,  where  a  thousand 
allurements  are  only  awaiting  their  creator.  This  park 
is  a  royal  realm  whose  throne  stood  vacant  until  your 
majesty  was  pleased  to  be  born." 

"  And  to-day  you  think  I  am  making  my  royal  pro- 
gress. That  is  why  my  leafy  subjects  have  made  a  ball 
toilet." 

"And  your  majesty's  winged  subjects  send  up  the 
Te  Deum." 

"  I  promise  you,  madame,  that  the  zoological  gar- 
den shall  no  longer  remain  a  wilderness,  if  it  were  only 
in  revenge  for  your  comparison.  Give  me  free  hands, 
and  your  prophecies  shall  become  a  truth.  But,"  and 
here  the  king  lowered  his  voice,  "  Du  Barry,  Du  Barry 
is  not  of  your  opinion  !  " 

"  Neither  have  I  ever  been  of  hers,"  replied  the 
marchioness,  with  a  captivating  petulance  of  contempt. 

"  Without  France  I  am  lost  !  " 

"  And  without  the  estates  your  majesty  is  saved  ! 
But  apropos  of  the  estates,  will  your  majesty  be  pleased 
to  bestow  a  moment's  attention  on  a  part  of  your  faith- 
ful people  whom  I  see  approaching  there  near  the 
bower  ? " 

The  king's  eyes  sought  the  direction  indicated,  and 
four  strangely  dressed  pairs  were  seen  approaching  the 


MORNING  LIGHT.  257 

little  level  below  the  hillock,  where  they  arranged  them- 
selves behind  each  other  for  the  game  of  widower. 
The  first  of  the  pairs  presented  themselves  as  Don 
Quixote  and  his  Dulcinea,  the  second  represented  a 
cardinal  and  an  abbess,  the  third  a  pattern-monger 
and  a  female  brewer,  and  the  fourth  a  Visigoth  bag- 
monger  and  Finnish  fortune-teller.  All  of  them  wore 
caps,  of  the  most  outlandish  form. 

"  But  I  do  not  see  any  widower,"  remarked  the 
king,  who  very  well  understood  the  intention. 

"  Here  he  is,  your  majesty  !  "and  forth  sprung  a  light- 
footed  young  gentleman  costumed  as  Public  Opin- 
ion, as  could  be  perceived  by  the  weather-vane  in  his 
jaunty  black  velvet  cap.  This  gentleman  placed  him- 
self in  front  of  the  four  pairs  and  cried  :  "  Last  pair 
out!  " 

Immediately  the  Visigoth  and  his  Finnish  woman 
undertook  to  run  apart  with  all  their  might  with  the 
intention  of  once  more  overtaking  each  other,  but  they 
stumbled  so  clumsily  that  both  were  soon  caught,  and, 
bound  with  chains  of  flowers,  led  before  the  king,  where 
they  bent  the  knee.  Of  course  that  was  not  altogether 
according  to  the  rules  of  the  game,  but  it  was  received 
with  gracious  pleasure. 

After  them,  at  the  same  challenge,  followed  the 
pattern-monger  and  the  brewer-madam.  They  jogged 
off  somewhat  further,  but  shared  the  same  fate.  Nei- 
ther did  it  go  any  better  with  the  cardinal  and  abbess, 
although  they  seemed  to  protest  with  all  the  dignity 
which  their  office  demanded. 

"  Last  pair  out !  "  shouted  Public  Opinion,  and  Don 
Quixote  and  his  Dulcinea  took  to  their  heels.  They 
ran  desperately,  they  made  all  conceivable  detours  over 
hillocks  and  impediments,  but  of  no  avail;  Opinion  was 
spryer,  they  were  overtaken  and  caught,  and  like  their 
predecessors  taken  in  rosy  fetters  to  the  feet  of  the 
king. 

The  marchioness  laughed  like  a  frolicsome  child, 
11*  R 


258  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

and  all  the  rest  held  handkerchiefs  to  their  mouths  in 
order  not  to  give  offence  by  an  improper  hilarity.  But 
it  was  not  very  dangerous.  His  majesty  was  pleased 
most  graciously  to  open  his  mouth  and  laugh  with 
them. 

"  Here,  sire,"  said  Opinion,  "  I  bring  some  rebels  to 
the  feet  of  your  majesty,  who  have  come  to  call  on  the 
most  patient  and  gracious  of  kings  for  the  pardon  of 
their  many  mis-steps,  and  to  beg  that  they  may  lay 
■down  their  most  humble  tribute  before  your  majesty." 

'■'■  Alloi2s"  said  the  king,  "  what  have  my  most  loyal 
rebels  to  offer  me  ?  " 

The  Visigoth  presented  a  little  keg  filled  with  hazel- 
nuts; the  pattern-monger  filled  a  tray  of  champagne; 
the  cardinal  presented  a  cheese;  and  Don  Quixote,  with 
much  ceremony,  produced  a  magnificent  crown  of 
candy. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  king,  as  he  broke  off  a 
piece  of  the  crown  and  carried  it  to  his  lips,  "  and  as  a 
reward  for  your  submission  I  restore  you  your  liberty." 

A  general  jubilation  followed  these  significant  words, 
and  all  thought  that  the  game  was  as  ingenious  as  it 
was  bold. 

"  Well,  have  you  no  fortune  to  tell  me,  lovely  sibyl  ? " 
said  the  king  to  the  old  fortune-teller. 

"  Your  majesty  is  going  to  find  something,"  replied 
the  sibyl,  who  was  no  other  than  Ulla  Fersen,  one  of  the 
three  graces  of  the  court. 

"  What  will  it  be  ?  " 

"  A  crushed  heart,"  she  replied,  with  a  delicate  and 
noble  allusion  to  the  neglected  queen,  Sophia  Magda- 
lena,  to  whom  she  was  acting  maid-of-honor. 

i'he  king  did  not  reply.  He  sat  down  on  the  grass 
near  Marchioness  Egmont. 

"  I  am  not  avaricious,"  he  whispered,  "but  I  would 
be  thankful  if  your  fairies  could  now  place  a  Peru  at 
my  disposal." 


MORNING  LIGHT.  259 

"  Does  your  majesty  believe  in  the  art  of  making 
gold  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  at  the  theatre,  madame  !  " 

"  I  mean  in  reality.  There  is  said  to  be  an  alche- 
mist in  Stockholm  quite  lately.  Trustworthy  per- 
sons have  assured  me  that  he  has  transmuted  bars  of 
iron  to  the  pure  metal,  for  a  representative  by  the  name 
of  Larsson." 

"  Where  is  the  man? "  asked  King  Gustaf,  who  be- 
lieved in  all  sorts  of  things  except  what  the  clergy  said 
to  him. 

"  His  name  is  Doctor  Weis,  and  he  is  at  present  in 
the  alchemist's  proper  country — in  Danvik." 

"I  could  believe  that,"  replied  the  king,  as  he  sunk 
into  an  unusual  abstraction. 

The  marchioness  was  reclining  carelessly  in  the 
soft  grass,  picking  to  pieces  the  leaves  of  an  inno- 
cent wood-anemone.  Bending  aside  a  stalk  of  grass, 
she  found  a  small,  strangely-shaped  ring  of  copper. 

Her  lively  imagination  was  immediately  ready  with 
a  new  idea. 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  congratulating  your  majesty," 
said  she. 

"  Upon  what  ? " 

"  Upon  being  betrothed  to  the  zoological  garden." 

"  Quest  .  .  .  ce  que  c' est?  " 

"  Here  is  a  ring,  you  see,  which  has  placed  itself  at 
your  majesty's  feet,  and  which  will  always  remind  your 
majesty  of  his  promise  ....  before  eighteen  hundred 
and  seventy-two." 

The  king  smiled,  and  looked  at  the  apparently  insig- 
nificant ring. 

"  I  shall  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of  you,  madame,  and 
of  your  charming  hospitality." 

"  And  of  the  estates'  crown,"  merrily  responded  the 
marchioness.  "  But,  sire,  I  have  learned  to  doubt  the 
promises  of  all  men,  even  yourself.  Permit  me,  there- 
fore, to  encase   your   engagement  ring  in  this  locket, 


260  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

which  may  perhaps  obtain  the  favor  of  being  put  away 
among  the  jewels  of  the  realm." 

"  Say  rather  on  my  heart,"  said  King  Gustaf,  laugh- 
ing, and  concealing  the  ring. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    KING    OF    THE    WISE    AMONG    FOOLS. 

AT  Danvik,  everything  seemed  to  be  topsy-turvy. 
Everybody  was  scouring  and  sweeping  for  dear 
life.  The  poor  lunatics  were  driven  out  into  the  yard,  in 
order  that  their  foul  stable,  where  they  had  lived  like  cat- 
tle in  stalls,  might  at  last  be  cleansed,  and  with  dull  and 
faded  eyes  they  looked  at  the  glorious  spring  sunshine. 
Up  to  this  time,  the  government  had  troubled  itself  but 
little  about  this,  the  grave  of  the  living,  although  there 
was  also  a  hospital  for  people  affected  with  ordinary  dis- 
ease. But  here  at  Danvik  all  was  dilapidated,  ill-tended, 
disgustingly  wretched  ;  and  now  everything  was  to  be 
hurriedly  scrubbed  up.  The  grave  was  now  to  take  on 
the  appearance  of  a  human  dwelling,  the  stable  a  tran- 
sient look  of  a  charitable  institution.  And  on  that  ac- 
count all  the  pens  were  to  be  dried,  juniper  twigs  to  be 
strewed  on  all  the  floors,  and  the  lunatics  scrubbed 
clean  and  clad  like  human  creatures.  Not  that  they 
were  looked  upon  as  deserving  of  such  consideration, 
— the  humane  care  of  a  later  time  for  these  unfor- 
tunates was  at  that  time  somewhat  unknown,  — 
but  that  a  message  had  struck  down  like  a  thunderbolt 
among  the  careless  wardens  of  the  hospital  that  the 
king,  the  king  himself,  was  going  to  visit  Danvik,  at 
three  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  this  day. 

The  time  was  very  short  to  make  good  the  neglect 


MORNING  LIGHT.  261 

of  years,  but  everything  possible  was  done,  and  thus 
arrived  the  dreaded  hour  when  his  majesty's  carriage 
rolled  into  the  stone-paved  court. 

The  king,  accompanied  by  his  adjutant,  his  physi- 
cian, and  his  private  secretary,  looked  over  the  institu- 
tion with  much  attention,  and  expressed  his  severe 
disapprobation  of  its  dilapidated  condition,  which 
no  scouring  and  juniper  twigs  could  conceal  from  his 
keen  eyes.  The  manager  received  a  reprimand,  and 
the  order  was  given  for  proposals  to  be  made  for  plac- 
ing the  institution  in  a  more  suitable  condition. 

His  majesty  afterward  made  a  circuit  through  the 
cells  of  the  maniacs,  and  had  descriptions  of  the  worst 
of  them  taken.  There  were  forsaken  women,  who  in 
frenzy  had  murdered  their  children  ;  dissipated  gam- 
blers, who  kept  faro  banks  with  chips  and  pebbles  ; 
used-up  representatives,  who  offered  for  a  dollar  to  pro- 
cure his  majesty  the  plurality  at  the  election  for  mar- 
shal of  the  diet  ;  one  called  himself  Luther,  another 
the  pope,  the  third  anti-christ,  and  the  fourth  the  great 
mogul.  A  butcher  imagined  himself  to  be  Frederick 
II  of  Prussia  ;  a  student  said  he  was  Charles  XII  ;  an 
old  court  lady  coquetted  with  her  fan,  and  gave  him  to 
understand  that  she  was  Pompadour  ;  a  poor  grocer's 
wife,  who  had  read  romances,  declared  herself  to  be 
Alaric  and  Gothilda  ;  a  bearded  sailor  had  got  it  into 
his  head  that  he  was  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England  ;  a 
muddled  t7iagister  begged  the  king  to  help  him  to  his 
throne,  as  he  was  the  pretender  Stuart.  Among  those 
ruins  of  human  passions  and  errors  there  was  also  an 
old  lover  of  ease  by  the  name  of  Calle  Sager,  who  said 
he  was  expecting  promotion  on  the  ground  that  he  had 
luck  with  the  ladies,  and  played  the  flute. 

"  Is  there  a  person  here  by  the  name  of  Dr.  Weis  ? " 
inquired  the  king. 

The  warden  coughed,  and  declared  that  the  person 
in  question  was  confined  in  a  separate  room,  together 
with  another  lunatic,  as  he  was  considered  dangerous. 


262  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"Why  is  he  considered  dangerous  ?" 

"  He  is  said  to  be  a  terrible  magician,  and  there  is 
something  not  exactly  right  about  his  Christianity,"  re- 
plied the  warden. 

'•  Take  me  to  him,"  commanded  the  king.  "  Mean- 
while, you,  gentlemen,  may  remain  here." 

"Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  go  with  you,  as  I 
know  the  man?"  asked  Paul  Bertelskold. 

"  Very  well.     Allons." 

In  a  remote  wing  of  the  hospital  was  a  good-sized 
room,  with  iron-grated  windows,  and  divided  by  a  pal- 
ing into  two  apartments.  In  each  apartment  lived  a 
lunatic,  and  through  the  paling  the  two  could  converse 
with  each  other.  Yet  while  the  lunatic  to  the  left,  a 
tall,  aged,  snowy-haired  man,  sat  free,  though  shrunken 
into  his  corner,  the  inmate  to  the  right,  who  seemed  to 
be  considerably  younger,  wore  heavy  chains  and  iron 
bands  around  his  wrists  and  ankles. 

Unperceived,  the  king  and  iiis  companion  paused 
awhile  at  the  open  door,  and  heard  the  two  lunatics 
talking  with  each  other. 

The  snowy-haired  lunatic  held  a  billet  of  wood  in 
his  arms,  and  was  examining  it  with  much  care.  "  It  is 
pure  gold,"  said  he,  "fine  gold  of  twenty-four  carats; 
but  what  can  it  weigh  ?  You  may  make  me  a  few  more 
lumps.  Dr.  Weis.  You  know  I  told  you  you  should 
have  a  liberal  recompense.  You  shall  have  my  daughter 
and  grand-daughter,  and  child  and  grand-child,  if  you 
will  ;  but  my  soul  you  see  I  cannot  sell  cheap,  do  you 
understand  ?     What  do  you  offer  for  rny  soul  ?  " 

"  Will  you  let  me  alone,  old  fool,  or  shall  I  pull 
down  the  roof  upon  you  !  "  angrily  muttered  the  other 
lunatic,  as  he  lay  face  downward  on  the  floor,  and  with 
his  nails  scratched  triangles  and  circles  in  the  hard 
planks. 

"  You  shall  have  sixteen  per  cent  net,"  persistently 
continued  the  other.  "  I  am  a  poor  man,  I  have 
scarcely  my  daily  bread.     Do  you  not  know  some  kind- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  263 

hearted  person  who  will  give  me  four  ores  for  a  meas- 
ure of  small  beer  ?  But  you  see  we  must  be  making 
something,  we  must  work,  we  must  get  us  more  gold. 
Oh,  you  most  beautiful  lump  of  gold  !  "  he  continued, 
rocking  and  caressing  the  billet  of  wood  in  his  arms. 
"Oh,  you  rarest  little  lump  of  fine  gold,  how  prettily 
you  shine  !  Why,  you  see  I  have  nothing  in  the  whole 
world  but  you,  little  crumb  of  gold  !  How  light  you 
have  grown,  you  who  were  once  so  heavy  I  And  be- 
yond the  world,  in  heaven,  there  is  nothing  at  all  but 
shining  ducats.  You  see  for  that  reason  I  too  want  to 
goto  heaven,  dear  gold  !  Grant  unto  us  a  pleasant 
death.     Amen  !  " 

"  If  your  brain  was  not  so  utterly  muddled  by  your 
cursed  gold,"  now  interposed  his  comrade  in  mis- 
fortune, "  I  might  tell  you  something,  Larsson  !  The 
scoundrels  have  thrown  me  into  chains  because  I  am 
the  ruler  of  the  world,  and  if  I  had  my  right  arm  free 
I  might  pull  up  the  Scandinavian  mountains  by  the 
root  and  throw  them  like  pebbles  into  the  Arctic  sea. 
But  you  are  free,  Larsson,  and  you  can  do  me  that  ser- 
vice, you  know.  Go  to  the  zoological  garden,  and 
search  there  in  the  grass,  search  night  and  day,  search 
for  a  hundred  years,  and  you  shall  not  have  done  so  in 
vain.  Search  for  that  same  ring  which  you  once  wore, 
that  one  with  R.  R.  R.  on  the  inside;  and  it  is  of  cop- 
per you  know,  yet  all  the  gold  in  the  world  is  nothing 
to  it.  But  be  careful  not  to  keep  it,  or  I  shall  trans- 
form you  to  slag  !  Bring  it  to  me,  and  I  will  make 
you  mountains  of  gold,  oceans  of  melted  gold,  Larsson! 
For  you  see  I  have  lost  my  star-compass,  which  always 
pointed  out  where  it  was  to  be  found,  and  you  know  it 
was  for  the  sake  of  that  that  I  came  to  this  cursed 
north.  The  stars,  you  see,  rule  the  universe;  but  the 
jewel  that  lies  in  the  grass  at  the  zoological  garden 
rules  the  stars,  and  those  lunatics  who  have  hitherto 
possessed  it  have  not    understood  that.     But  now  I 


264  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

come,  who  alone  in  the  whole  world  know  how  to 
make  use  of  such  an  enormous  power,  and  then  it  is 
stolen  from  me  !     Say,  is  it  not  a  crying  shame  ? " 

"  I  will  go  immediately,  if  you  will  give  me  in  ad- 
vance five  lispunds  of  genuine  unadulterated  ingots  of 
gold  !  "  responded  Larsson,  w4th  a  crafty  wink. 

"  Well,  here  you  have  them,"  replied  the  doctor,  as 
with  an  important  air  he  counted  out,  as  well  as  the 
chains  would  allow  him,  five  other  billets  of  wood 
which  were  standing  by  the  wall. 

The  two  lunatics  were  trying  to  out- wit  each  other, 
both  to  attain  their  souls'  most  secret  desire,  the  only 
lucid  point  in  their  terrible  darkness. 

The  king  now  appeared  and  gave  orders  for  the 
unchaining  of  the  prisoner  in  the  right-hand  room. 
This  was  done,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  produce  any  par- 
ticular impression. 

"  You  are  now  free,"  said  the  king,  "  and  if  you  are 
the  one  you  pretend  to  be  you  shall  soon  leave  this 
house.  Answer  me:  can  you  prove  that  you  can  really 
transmute  iron  to  gold  ?" 

"  That  does  not  concern  you,"  snappishly  replied 
the  doctor. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  are  one  of  those  ordinary  fools  who  gape 
their  mouths  out  of  joint  after  a  handful  of  dust." 

"  I  do  not  care  about  gold  for  its  own  sake,  but  I 
would  like  to  do  something  with  it,"  said  the  king, 
embarrassed  in  the  presence  of  a  lunatic. 

"Wine,  girls,  dice — what  is  your  pleasure?  Such, 
of  course,  you  have  without  my  aid.  Power,  honor, 
conquests — have  you  a  taste  for  more  ?  Go  home, 
poor  king,  and  lie  down  !  That  which  is  to  come  will 
come  while  you  are  asleep.  Remember  that  the  king 
of  kings  has  told  you  that  !  " 
"  You  know  me  ?  " 

The  doctor  smiled  disdainfully. 

"  Well,"  said  the  king,  who  wished  to  make  one 


MORNING  LIGHT.  265 

more  attempt,  "  if  you  can  transmute  iron  to  gold,  I 
will  admit  that  you  are  more  powerful  than  I.  And  I 
do  not  ask  such  a  favor  for  nothing." 

The  lunatic  sneered.  "  What  would  you,  insignifi- 
cant little  snow-king,  be  able  to  offer  tlie  king  of  the 
wise  who  is  caged  among  fools  ?" 

"  You  wish  to  regain  a  ring  ?  " 

The  brown  eyes  of  the  lunatic  flashed. 

"  You  shall  have  it  after  you  have  filled  my  treas- 
ury " 

Once  more  the  king  of  the  wise  caged  among  fools 
sneered. 

The  king  produced  the  locket,  which  was  hanging 
by  a  silken  cord  in  his  bosom,  and  showed  the  ring. 

"  Beware,  sire  !  "  exclaimed  Paul  Bertelskold.  But 
it  was  too  late.  The  effect  was  instantaneous.  The 
lunatic  threw  himself  upon  the  amazed  monarch,  seized 
him  by  the  throat  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger,  and  if 
Paul,  who  was  watching  all  his  motions,  had  not 
quickly  thrown  himself  between  them  and  pulled  from 
the  wild  beast  its  prey,  that  would  have  been  the  end 
of  the  reign  of  Gustaf  III.  and  not  all  the  power  of 
Sweden  would  have  been  able  to  prevent  it. 

"  Ma  foi,''  said  the  king,  with  a  tranquillity  which 
was  contradicted  by  his  pale  cheeks,  "  the  king  of  the 
wise  is  not  gentle  toward  us  other  unwise  monarchs. 
....     Come,  Bertelskold,  I  have  heard  enough." 

The  door  was  bolted,  and  the  king  withdrew.  He 
had  had  enough  of  the  art  of  alchemy. 

The  lunatic  remained,  but  his  darkened  mind  had 
fallen  into  a  terrible  commotion.  He  flew  in  perfect 
frenzy  against  walls  and  doors.  He  climbed  with  an 
incredible  agility  up  the  smooth  wall  to  the  little  grated 
window  placed  high  in  it,  and  smote  his  head  against 
its  iron  bars.  He  shouted  that  he  would  bury  the 
whole  world  in  ruins,  if  that  jewel,  which  governed  the 
stars,  and  at  its  will  changed  or  hurled  to  destruction 
the  whole  fabric  of  the  world,  was  not  restored  to  him. 
12 


266  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Not  until  late  in  the  evening  did  the  watchmen 
observe  the  noise  subside,  when  they  ventured  in  to 
put  the  chains  once  more  on  the  raving  lunatic.  They 
found  him  extended  motionless  on  the  floor.  The  king 
of  the  wise  was  dead  among  fools. 

Shrunken  into  his  corner  sat  the  old  Larsson,  look- 
ing at  his  comrade  in  misfortune  with  bewildered  eyes. 
A  spark  of  reason  seemed  to  glimmer  through  the 
night  of  his  insanity.  Dim  recollections  from  former 
times  when  the  Bible  was  daily  read  in  his  father's 
house  seemed  to  find  their  way  to  his  lips,  and  he 
muttered  softly  to  himself: 

"  Take  unto  thyself  wisdom,  for  it  is  better  than 
gold,  and  to  have  understanding  is  nobler  than  silver. 

"  But  the  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with 
God.  For  it  is  written,  He  taketh  the  wise  in  their 
own  craftiness." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    SECOND    TRIAL.* 

WHERE  is  Count  Bertelskold,  that  he  has  not 
been  seen  here  for  so  long  ? "  inquired  some- 
body one  evening  at  "  Svenska  Botten." 
"  He  is  sick,"  said  one. 
'  He  is  crazy,"  said  another. 

"  He  has  become  pious,"  interposed  a  third,  "  and 
it  may  as  well  become  known  at  once." 

"  I   have  heard  that  he  has  become  a  Catholic," 
said  a  fourth.     "A  disguised  nun  has  converted  him." 

*  Remembering  the  old  grandmother's  dissatisfaction  over  the  preceding 
story,  the  Surgeon  had  here  found  a  suitable  opportunity  to  send  away  the 
little  ones  to  crack  nuts  for  him  down-stairs,  so  that  they  were  absent  during 
the  recital  of  this  chapter. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  267 

"  The  devil !  That  is  likely  enough.  She  is  young 
and  pretty,  I  suppose  ?  I  call  that  a  very  sensible 
reason  for  changing  his  religion." 

"  In  case  one  happens  to  have  anything  of  the 
kind.  Have  we  not  a  statute  against  luxury  and 
extravagance  ? " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !     Say  that  to  the  bishops." 

"The  bishops  are  of  the  same  opinion." 

"  I  congratulate  you.  It  would  not  be  so  bad  to 
try  a  pastorate,  when  one  had  got  enough  of  diet-dis- 
sension.    I  might  in  sooth  preach  for  the  peasants." 

"That  would  be  rich,  I  wonder  what  text  you 
would  choose." 

"  Enlightenment,  of  course.  I  would  tell  them 
that  the  Bible  is  a  worn-out  old  lie  of  the  priests,  that 
the  catechism  was  invented  to  beat  the  skulls  of  stupid 
boys,  that  the  church  was  made  for  a  morning  nap, 
and  that  the  so-called  religion  is  very  useful,  partly  as 
a  cavesson  for  unsteady  people,  and  partly  as  a 
machine  instituted  solely  for  sheep-shearing."* 

"  Just  hear  that  heretic  !"  cried  several  voices.  "  If 
he  keeps  on  in  that  way,  he  will  become  a  cardinal 
at  the  very  least." 

'  But,  after  the  old  rubbish  is  swept  away,  what  will 
remain  ?  " 

"  Liberty,  enlightenment,  philosophy,  and — moral- 
ity." 

"  Beautiful !  How  many  ducats  did  you  wm  at 
biribi,  yesterday,  from  your  neighbor?" 

"  Only  sixty,"  calmly  replied  the  person  questioned. 

"  And  how  many  girls  have  for  your  sake  jumped 
into  Norrstrom  ? " 

"  I  have  forgotten  to  count  them." 

*  Here  the  Surgeon  remarked  :  "  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  look  upon  the 
contempt  for  religion  as  havmg  entered  Sweden  under  Gustaf  III.  It  crowded 
in  during  the  whole  of  the  preceding  tnne  of  liberty,  particularly  toward  the 
close,  through  the  open  rifts  of  the  time,  from  France,  and  the  seed  was  sown 
long  before,  leaving  it  to  come  to  the  ear  under  Gustaf  III,  and  during  the 
French  revolution  to  ripen  for  the  harvest." 


268  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  No,  my  good  sirs,  cardinal  is  too  little  ;  he  must 
be  pope  !  "  noisily  vociferated  the  jolly  company. 

In  the  midst  of  these  jeers,  Bernhard  Bertelskold 
stepped  in  and  inquired  for  Colonel  Sprengtport.  He 
was  pale  and  serious,  and  above  the  left  eye  carried 
a  scar.  Of  the  former  sneer  on  his  lips,  not  a  trace 
was  to  be  seen. 

The  noise  became  hushed.  There  was  something 
about  the  new-comer  which  laid  a  check  upon  every 
tongue.  He  had  never  been  loved  by  his  acquaint- 
ances at  the  club,  but  rather  feared  for  his  sarcastic 
habit,  and  his  insufferable  sneer.  A  strong  incli- 
nation, therefore,  existed  to  humiliate  him,  the  more  so 
as  he  was  suspected  of  having  run  counter  to  the  club 
on  political  by-ways. 

A  single  member  broke  the  silence,  and  that  was  the 
same  young  ensign  whom  the  company  had  wished  to 
nominate  as  pope,  and  who  was  endowed  with  an 
extraordinary  difficulty  of  holding  his  tongue. 

"  Well,  see,  here  comes  Bertelskold,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  on  purpose  to  decide  an  extremely  intricate  question. 
Some  claim,  count,  that  the  nun  who  converted  you  to 
the  Catholic  religion  was  as  fair  to  the  eyes  as  a  Span- 
ish moonlight  night,  while  others  maintain  that  she  was 
invited  to  be  bridesmaid  when  Louis  XIV  married 
Madame  Maintenon,  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago." 

Bertelskold  was  silent.  His  mind  was  far  from 
made  up.  He  seemed  to  himself  like  a  leopard  with 
its  claws  cut  off. 

"  I  beg  pardon  if  we  have  been  mistaken,"  mock- 
ingly continued  the  ensign.  "  There  are  others,  count, 
who  assert  that  you  have  become  a  Mohammedan. 
Allah  is  great,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet." 

"  Is  Baron  Sprengtport  in  the  club  ? "  inquired 
Bertelskold. 

''We  expect  him  every  moment,  count,  and  mean- 
time you  can  pass  away  the  time  by  telling  us  about 
your  conversion,"    replied  another   of   the   company, 


MORNING  LIGHT.  269 

who  began  to  find  the  jest  amusing.  "  Do  you  know 
the  chapter  by  heart,  count  ?  " 

"  Oh,  have  the  goodness  to  repeat  a  part  of  the 
mass  for  us  ;  it  will  be  extremely  edifying  ! "  inter- 
posed another. 

"Or  preach  to  us  about  the  oxymel  of  the  Saddu- 
cees  !  "  proposed  a  third,  who  wanted  to  air  his  biblical 
knowledge.  "  We  are  all  Sadducees  ;  we  do  not  believe 
in  the  resurrection  of  the  body  in  any  other  form  than 
a  beefsteak  that  returns  from  his  grave." 

"And  we  have  just  been  amusing  ourselves  in 
deposing  the  Lord.  The  old  man  is  getting  anti- 
quated, and  the  clock-work  needs  repair.  Do  you  not 
know  of  some  other  clock-maker,  count  ?" 

"  Count,  do  you  believe  in  Saint  Bridget  ? " 

"  Count,  do  you  believe  in  the  devil  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  On  revient  toujours  a  ses  premiers 
amours.     The  count  and  the  devil  are  old  brothers." 

"  Fi  done,  gentlemen,  there  is  a  smell  of  brimstone 
here.  Have  you  no  compassion  ?  Count  Bertelskold 
is  fainting." 

Count  Bernhard  did  not  faint,  but  he  looked  as 
though  he  might.  He  was  very  pale.  It  was  his  past 
life  which  was  now  turning  against  him  with  the  keen- 
ness of  thorns.  This  was  his  first  external  struggle 
against  that  world  he  had  renounced,  and  now  was  the 
time  to  choose  his  colors. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  as  with  a  pow- 
erful effort  he  suppressed  his  boiling  anger,  "  I  am  not 
going  to  preach  for  you,  but,  if  you  will  permit,  I  will 
tell  you  a  little  traveling  adventure  I  had  in  Spain." 

"  Do  so,  do  so  !  Tell  us  some  interesting  love 
adventure  !  "  said  his  audience  mockingly. 

"  I  was  one  time  passing  through  the  arid  mountain 
steppes  in  New  Castile  and  La  Mancha,  from  Toledo  to 
Villafranca  in  Andalusia.  The  country  was  not  lack- 
ing in  picturesque  beauty,  and  the  muleteer  who  was 
my  guide  did  not  cease  to  praise  his  native  land,  as  the 


270  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

most  beautiful  country  under  the  sun.  Often  when  I 
looked  upon  the  lofty  mountain  tops  gilded  by  the  glow 
of  evening,  or  when  the  road  wound  near  frightful 
precipices,  I  was  ready  to  join  in  the  same  eulogies.  But 
again  when  I  saw  that  land  so  desolate  and  unfruitful, 
and,  in  the  heat  of  that  burning  sun,  did  not  find  one 
single  refreshing  fountain  to  slake  my  thirst,  but  only 
turbid  water  or  exciting  wine,  then,  although  I  wished 
to  persuade  myself  that  nothing  ought  to  be  more 
agreeable  than  a  journey  in  those  mountain  regions,  I 
longed  to  be  away  from  them.  At  last  we  descended 
from  the  mountains,  and  approached  the  fertile  and 
luxuriant  plains  of  Andalusia,  intersected  by  innumer- 
able rills,  among  which  the  bright  Guadalquivir,  majes- 
tic and  calm,  wended  its  silent  way  to  the  sea.  How 
utterly  unlike  the  burning  deserts,  from  which  I  had 
come,  was  that  land  !  How  pure  was  the  air,  how  blue 
the  sky  !  The  birds  sung,  and  the  fields  were  odorous 
of  health.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  peace  and  blessing 
rested  like  a  celestial  transfiguration  upon  that  charm- 
ing landscape.  But  my  guide  was  of  a  different 
opinion.  He  thought  Andalusia  level  and  tedious;  he 
longed  to  go  back  to  the  deserts  and  their  turbid 
fountains,  and  derided  me  as  a  fool  when  I  would  not 
return  with  him.  What  do  you  think,  gentlemen  ? 
Which  of  us  was  right  ?  " 

The  hearers  were  silent. 

"I  do  not  believe,"  continued  Bertelskold,  ''that 
many  of  you  would  have  been  of  a  different  opinion 
from  myself.  And  yet  when  you  see  a  wayfarer  step 
out  from  the  arid  wilderness  of  this  world,  from  the 
quenchless  thirst,  and  the  precipices  by  night,  to 
the  beautiful,  living-water-fountains  of  the  kingdom  of 
God,  you  say  like  the  muleteer,  '  What  a  fool  ! '  I  will- 
not  dispute  with  you  about  it.  But,  if  you  knew  that 
realm  which  you  despise,  many  of  you  would  perhaps 
follow  the  eternal  Guide,  and  be  surprised   at  your 


MORNING  LIGHT.  271 

blindness  in  having  so  long  seen  the  light  of  life,  and 
yet  remained  in  the  shadow." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  the  young  ensign,  with  mocking 
solemnity. 

"But,  my  dear  Bertelskold,"  said  one  of  the  older 
and  more  serious  in  the  company,  "  do  you  really 
believe  that  such  a  nursery-tale  as  Christianity  will 
stand  before  reason  in  the  century  of  enlightenment  ? 
In  twenty  years  there  will  be  no  more  Christianity." 

"  In  twenty  years,"*  said  Bertelskold,  "  it  will  per- 
haps be  said,  as  it  was  said  once  before  when  the  his- 
tory of  the  world  was  turned  on  its  hinges,  '  now  is 
your  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness.'  But  when  that 
hour  is  past,  the  eternal  truth  shall  again  break  forth, 
brighter  than  ever  before,  and  a  hundred,  yes,  a  thou- 
sand years  hence,  Christianity,  triumphant,  shall  spread 
to  all  parts  of  the  earth,  while  the  '  century  of  enlight- 
enment'  shall  remain  in  history  as  a  vanishing  moment 
in  the  development  of  humanity." 

"  Well  !  "  said  the  ensign,  "  I  make  no  pretensions 
to  living  so  long,  but  after  twenty  years,  if  there  is 
any  Christianity  left  except  possibly  the  clerical  ruff,  I 
will  treat  you  to  a  crate  of  champagne,  gentlemen." 

"  I  accept  the  offer,  in  case  I  can  by  that  time  drink 
champagne,"  replied  Bertelskold,  with  a  smile. 

That  fleeting  smile  found  only  a  faint  response. 
The  jolly  society  of  "  Svenska  Botten  "  was  visibly 
uneasy,  and  at  that  moment  Baron  Sprengtport  en- 
tered. 

"  Sir  baron,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  "  I  once  insulted 
Marchioness  Egmont,  in  your  presence,  and  you  de- 
manded satisfaction  of  me.  I  declare  in  the  presence 
of  these  gentlemen  that  I  was  wrong,  and  ask  if  you 
think  I  have  thereby  fulfilled  the  demands  of 
honor." 

"  Perfectly,  sir   count !  "  replied    Sprengtpqrt,  sur- 
prised.    "  And  I  will  add  quite  as  publicly  that  though 


273  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

I  disapproved  of  your  conduct,  I  did  not  doubt  your 
courage." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  count,  with  a  touch  of  the 
former  courtier,  "  and  as  the  gentlemen  here  will  not 
probably  be  interested  in  continuing  our  former  theme 
of  conversation,  I  regard  the  object  of  my  visit  as  ac- 
complished, and  wish  the  gentlemen  good-night." 

"  How  infernally  solemn  you  all  look,  gentlemen  !  " 
said  Sprengtport,  when  his  antagonist  had  gone. 

"  That  is  because  we  have  been  to  church  and  had 
a  regular  douche,'  said  the  ensign. 

"  A  real  fast-day  sermon,"  suggested  another. 

"  He  is  crazy,"  said  a  third. 

"  Oh,  tell  us  some  pithy  bachelor  story,  or  we 
shall  all  drown  in  our  tears  !  "  a  fourth  was  heard  to 
exclaim. 

"  Patience,"  said  the  leader,  "  we  have  more  im- 
portant matters  to  deliberate  upon.  The  time  is 
approaching." 

"  At  last !  "  cried  several  voices,  and  soon  every 
visible  trace  of  Bernhard  Bertelskold  and  his  conver- 
sion was  buried  in  the  burning  furnace  of  politics. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    i8tH    of    august. 

THE  summer-night's  sun  had  just  sunken  in  the 
fiords  of  the  Malar  hidden  behind  Riddarholm, 
when  the  wax-candles  already  began  to  be  lighted  in 
the  royal  castle  of  Stockholm.  There  was  a  great 
drawing-room,  and  the  cream  of  the  Swedish  aristoc- 
racy, the  diplomatic  corps,  and  some  of  the  most  promi- 
nent representatives  of  all  parties,  were  "  ordered  "  to 
the  palace. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  273 

The  beautiful,  magnificent  salons  were  glorious  with 
light  ;  — royalty  was  to  find  in  pomp  a  recompense  for 
power.  All  was  luxury,  courtesy,  ceremony,  and  yet 
the  fetters  of  etiquette  were  not  burdensome  to  any 
except  those  who  were  unaccustomed  to  them.  The 
sunshine  on  the  faces  of  the  court  was  as  unbroken  as 
in  Peru,  where  it  never  rains  anything  but  gold.  Hither 
came  no  wail  from  all  the  realm  of  Sweden,  no  cry  of 
distress  from  famishing  countrymen,  no  discordant 
sound  from  the  great  word-factory  of  the  diet,  and  not 
a  threat  from  the  clubs  gathered  everywhere  in  town. 
There  was  tranquillity  in  the  kingdom,  tranquillity  at 
court,  tranquillity  in  the  countenances  of  all, —  the  very 
deepest  tranquillity. 

But  why  did  people  throng  so  curiously  around  the 
young  king,  when  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  he 
made  his  appearance,  more  gracious  and  smiling  than 
ever  before  ?  Why  was  he  everywhere  regarded  with 
furtive,  scrutinizing  glances?  What  were  they  trying 
to  read  in  those  two  sealed  books,  those  two  large,  blue, 
Brandenburg  eyes,  which  ruled,  charmed  and  cheated 
all  ?  They  were  trying  to  read  there  the  morrow  of 
Sweden;  but,  like  the  glitter  of  the  waves  on  the  shin- 
ing sea,  it  could  not  be  deciphered. 

It  was  a  strange  tranquillity.  It  looked  as  though 
all  clamorous  powers  had  plunged  down  beneath  the 
tranquil  surface  of  the  night,  in  order  unseen  to  strug- 
gle in  the  silent  deep.  All  knew  that  something  was 
going  to  happen,  and  many  even  knew  what.  And  yet 
no  one  pretended  to  have  the  least  suspicion. 

Thetis  and  Pelee  was  rehearsed.  It  was  the  first 
Swedish  opera  ;  all  were  charmed,  or  at  least  seemed 
to  be,  and  the  king  most  of  all.  He  corrected  mis- 
takes, he  praised  the  singers,  and  above  all  the  ladies 
who  took  part.  He  applauded  the  prettiest  parts  of 
the  piece,  and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  note- 
books, as  though  again  he  read  the  soothing  melo- 
dies. 

S 


274  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"And  they  say  that  man  is  thinking  of  a  revolu- 
tion !  "  whispered  Chief  Governor  Ruth. 

"  Who  knows  ? "  whispered  Councilor  Kalling- 
back. 

"  I  think  we  would  have  done  the  wiser  to  imprison 
him." 

"  Him  !  Do  you  know  what  he  was  doing  when  I 
had  audience  this  morning  ?  While  he  was  talking  to 
me  about  events  in  Christianstad,  he  was  drawing  an 
embroidery  pattern  for  Lady  Posse." 

"  But  we  have  certain  advices  .  .  .  .  " 

"  Try  to  make  me  believe  that !  Believe  what  you 
will  about  his  adherents,  but  he  himself  is  afraid.  Just 
reflect, — it  would  be  a  calamity  to  the  realm  to  break 
off  the  rehearsals  of  the  new  opera  !  —  See,  now  he  is 
sitting  down  to  the  card-table  with  Baroness  Pechlin  ! 
If  she  has  a  spark  of  her  husband's  genius  she  will  peep 
into  his  cards  .  .  .  .  " 

Paul  Bertelskold  was  standing  not  far  distant.  He 
was  pale  with  overwork,  for  he  had  written  far  into  the 
nights,  and  he  had  been  writing  roles.,  but  this  time  not 
of  the  usual  sort.  His  eyes  followed  Marchioness  Eg- 
mont.  Never  had  she  been  so  lovely,  so  radiantly 
beautiful.  Wherever  she  appeared,  all  were  dazzled 
and  charmed.  Envy  herself  hid  her  polished  dagger, 
and  people  whispered  to  each  other  that  the  queen  of 
Gustaf  in  ought  to  have  been  like  her, — a  counter- 
part of  himself,  a  superior  character,  witty,  happy, 
agreeable,  and  dignified  in  every  motion  ! 

Paul  felt  at  the  same  time  happy  and  deeply  humil- 
iated. Was  that  not  the  same  charming  creature  who 
once,  in  the  lonely  moonlight  of  night,  leaned  her  head 
with  such  unrestrained  emotion  against  his  shoulder, 
in  the  secluded  refuge  of  the  zoological  garden  ?  But 
that  smiling  and  yet  proud  French  woman,  the  admired 
of  all,  vouchsafed  him  no  more  than  a  single  glance. 

He  then  felt  a  paper  pressed  into  his  hand,  and 
turned  around,  but  the  messenger  had  vanished. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  275 

The  little  perfumed  sheet  burned  his  hand.  Paul 
glided  to  a  window  and  read  in  French:  "  Some  one  is 
waiting  for  you  in  the  yellow  parlor." 

"  It  must  be  she  !  "  thought  he  to  himself,  and  his 
heart  began  to  beat  violently.  A  few  seconds  after- 
ward he  was  standing  unobserved  in  the  room  indi- 
cated. 

But  instead  of  the  marchioness  he  found  an  elderly 
military  officer  carelessly  extended  on  the  sofa.  This 
person  was  one  of  those  who  need  to  be  looked  at  three 
times.  At  the  first  sight  he  looked  simple;  at  the  sec- 
ond, jolly  and  phlegmatic;  and  at  the  third,  crafty.  It 
was  General  Pechlin,  the  most  dangerous,  shrewd  and 
implacable  opponent  of  the  king  and  the  Hats. 

"  Sit  down,  young  man,  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you,"  said  the  general,  with  the  straightforward  manner 
of  a  military  man,  and  the  tone  of  a  superior  who  does 
not  expect  any  opposition. 

Paul  remained  standing. 

"As  you  please  then,"  said  the  general,  indiffer- 
ently. "  I  know  your  father,  my  young  sir.  We  have 
been  political  opponents,  but  I  respect  his  principles, 
and  he  means  too  well  with  the  country  to  wish  to  see 
his  son  on  the  scaffold." 

"What  does  your  excellence  mean  by  that?"  asked 
Paul,  more  surprised  than  frightened. 

"  I  mean,"  continued  the  general,  "  that  we  are 
probably  on  the  eve  of  a  new  '56.  You  cannot  remem- 
ber that  year,  young  man;  you  were  then  in  skirts,  but 
I  will  tell  you  its  history  in  a  few  words.  The  king 
tried  to  make  his  power  absolute,  but  liberty  was  too 
hard  a  nut  to  crack;  it  miscarried,  and  all  his  nearest 
assistants  had  to  mount  the  scaffold." 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  excellence." 

"Do  not  assume  artlessness;  you  understand  quite 
well.  In  short,  you  are  the  king's  private  secretary, 
and  initiated  into  the  secret.     Consequently,  you  will 


276  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

lose  your  head  when  the  catastrophe  is  well  past,  to- 
morrow or  the  day  after." 

"  Your  excellence  .  .  .  .  " 

"Bah!  Let  us  leave  off  phrases.  I  know  all,  and 
I  am  sorry  for  your  father.  I  have,  therefore,  resolved 
to  save  you  while  there  is  yet  time.  Do  you  want  to 
retain  your  head  ?     Yes  or  no  ? " 

"  If  it  can  happen  honorably,  I  would  like  to  keep 
it,"  replied  Paul,  with  a  smile. 

"  Honor  and  liberty  are  inseparable.  Listen  there- 
fore to  what  I  will  confide  to  you  as  a  friend.  You 
have  the  name  of  being  a  visionary,  but  I  will  talk  to 
you  as  to  a  young  man  of  good  sense.  If,  before 
morning  dawns,  you  have  not  given  me  the  whole  plan 
of  the  revolution  which  I  know  you  can  procure  me, 
you  are  lost  beyond  rescue." 

Paul  was  silent.  He  felt  the  blood  mount  to  his 
cheeks,  but  he  had  no  words  for  his  extreme  astonish- 
ment. 

The  general  misunderstood  his  silence.  "  Mark 
well,"  said  he,  "that  I  ask  this  of  you  in  the  name  of 
country  and  liberty.  That  is  my  reason,  and  it  ought 
also  to  be  yours.  But  your  reward  shall  not,  therefore, 
be  less.  In  recompense  for  your  service  you  have  the 
choice  of  a  major's  rank  in  the  guard,  or  something 
corresponding  in  the  civil  service,  and  in  either  case 
forty  thousand  dollars  for  equipments.  I  think  that 
will  suffice." 

"  Forty  thousand  dollars!     For  me?" 

"What  now?  So  young,  and  already  initiated  in 
the  art  of  extortion?  I  can  increase  the  sum  to  fifty 
thousand,  but  not  a  dollar  over.  Are  you  out  of  your 
wits,  sir?  Why,  that  is  gold  enough  to  buy  a  whole 
department  of  the  diet.  And  besides,"  he  continued, 
correcting  himself,  "  the  question  in  this  case  is  not 
about  that,  but  tout  bomiement  about  saving  the  country. 
Am  I  understood?" 


of 


MORNING  LIGHT.  277 

"  Perfectly.     I  shall  immediately  have  the  honor 


"  What  ?     Perhaps  you  have  the  plan  with  you  ? " 

"  I  shall  immediately  have  the  honor  of  reporting 
to  his  majesty  the  generous  offer  of  your  excel- 
lence." 

"  See  here,  my  friend,"  said  the  general,  with  com- 
posure, "  are  you  in  your  senses,  or  are  you  mad  ? " 

"  I  was  just  intending  to  ask  your  excellence  the 
same  question." 

"  Indeed!  Candor  for  candor.  So  you  prefer 
being  headless  to  being  a  major?  You  would  rather 
ruin  than  rescue  the  country  ?  " 

"  Your  excellence  can  apply  to  those  who  are  mer- 
cenary and  cowardly  enough  to  sell  themselves  to  the 
highest  bidder.  I  venture  to  think  that  men  of  honor, 
and  not  false-hearted  traitors,  are  the  ones  who  are  to 
rescue  the  country." 

"  How  edifying!  But  my  well  -  meant  proposal 
can  remain  between  us,  I  suppose?  " 

"I  do  not  perceive  why  I  should  be  bound  to  that." 

"  Well,  then  look  upon  the  whole  affair  as  a  mere 
joke.  Adieu,  my  lord.  I  wish  you  much  happiness 
when  we  next  meet,  on  Market  Square." 

Paul  coldly  bowed,  and  proudly  turned  his  back  to 
him. 

But  when  he  had  gone,  a  sneering  smile  flitted 
across  the  crafty  features  of  General  Pechlin.  "  That  is 
just  what  I  expected  of  him!  "  he  soliloquized.  "  I  like 
people  who  butt  their  heads  against  the  wall;  they 
save  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  All  the  operas  this 
evening  go  by  note.  The  king  will  now  be  informed 
that  we  have  not  the  plan  of  the  revolution,  which  has 
been  in  my  pocket  for  the  last  three  hours.  He  will 
by  that  means  be  lulled  into  a  sense  of  security,  and 
put  off  everything  until  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Meantime  our  reliable  regiments  will  have  time  to 
reach  Stockholm,  monseigneur  will  walk  in  civil  arrest, 


278  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

and  the  republic  is  complete.  Ccst  a  mervcille  !  Those 
asses  hardly  deserve  to  be  led  by  the  bridle." 

Paul  again  mingled  in  the  crowd,  with  the  intention 
of  using  the  first  opportunity  to  warn  the  king.  But 
his  majesty  was  still  sitting  at  the  card-table,  as  uncon- 
cerned as  though  he  had  no  other  crown  in  sight  than 
that  of  the  king  of  hearts.  The  marchioness  was  play- 
ing, with  a  couple  of  diplomats  and  General  Horn. 

At  that  moment  she  lost  a  card;  Paul  flew  thither 
to  pick  it  up,  and  as  he  stooped  down  he  felt  a  warm 
breath  at  his  ear,  and  heard  a  whisper  as  soft  as  the 
rustle  of  leaves  in  a  summer  night: 

"  Observe  when  I  close  the  game!  " 

*'  Ah,  monsieur  le  comte,'"  said  the  marchioness, 
aloud,  "  I  thank  you.  That  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw 
you  bow  so  low." 

"  Youth  is  paying  its  reverence  before  the  throne  of 
Beauty,"  suggested  gallant  the  Count  Horn. 

"There  are  a  great  many  rebels,"  said  the  beautiful 
Frenchwoman,  carelessly.  "  But  what  cards  you  have 
given  me!  Nothing  but  peasants  and  burghers!  Why, 
that  is  abominable.  A  king,  a  queen,  and  a  jack,  but 
all  the  rest  small  cards!  " 

Paul  withdrew,  and  from  a  window-niche  silently 
noted  the  light  murmur,  the  fluttering  toilets,  the 
smile  on  all  faces,  the  king's  animated  gestures  and 
merry  flashes  of  wit,  Pechlin's  credulous  and  simple 
mien,  and  Marchioness  Egmont's  careless  coquetry. 
Did  not  all  this  glitter  rest  on  roses  ? 


MORNING  LIGHT.  279 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    HOBGOBLIN    WITH    THE    RED   CAP. 

SILENT  and  dreaming,  Paul  Bertelskold  was 
standing  by  his  window,  when  a  hearty  laugh 
reached  his  listening  ear.  It  was  from  Marchioness 
Egmont,  who  was  rising  from  the  card-table,  and  jest- 
ing over  the  roll  of  ducats  she  had  won  of  the  English 
ambassador.  "Admit,  milord"  said  she,  "that  this 
money  will  be  well  employed!  To-morrow  I  am  going 
to  buy  half  the  diet  with  your  gold,  milord,  and  raise 
the  Pretender  Stuart  to  the  throne  of  England." 

"  I  fear  your  grace  boasts  in  the  game,"  replied  the 
rigid  Englishman,  who  did  not  like  the  jest. 

"  Who  knows  ?  I  have  never  had  luck  in  love,  con- 
sequently I  have  luck  in  play.  Apropos  of  games  of 
chance,  you  have  a  bad  memory.  Count  Horn.  I  re- 
member distinctly  that  his  majesty,  who  likes  change, 
sometimes  writes  his  royal  name  with/  and  sometimes 
with  V.  But  there  is  some  one  who  can  settle  our  con- 
troversy.    What  do  you  say  about  it,  my  dear  count  ? " 

At  these  words,  Paul  approached. 

"  In  Swedish,  his  majesty  writes  his  name  Gustaf, 
and  in  French,  Gustave,"  replied  Paul,  with  a  reflex  of 
the  sunshine  from  the  lips  of  the  marchioness. 

"  Did  I  not  say  so  ?  You  must  tell  me  if  it  is  true 
that  his  majesty  has  an  esprit  farnilier,  a  terribly  ugly 
looking  hobgoblin  in  a  red  cap,  who  sits  astride  his 
chair,  and  dictates  to  him  his  poetic  inspirations  .... 
Your  arm,  if  you  will  allow  !  " 

And  the  beautiful  marchioness,  in  her  unconcerned 
way,  took  the  arm  of  the  young  private  secretary,  as 
she  continued  to  jest  over  the  king's  hobgoblin. 


280  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

But  by  degrees  they  unobservedly  got  out  of 
the  crowd,  and  found  themselves  alone  in  a  side-room, 
where  the  actresses  in  Thetis  and  Pelee  had  shortly 
before  changed  costumes.  Then  the  marchioness  sunk 
down  in  the  nearest  chair,  and  burst  into  tears,  as  vio- 
lently, unrestrainedly  and  artlessly  as  a  school-girl  weeps 
over  a  dead  canary  bird. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  lady  ?  "  asked  Paul,  per- 
plexed by  this  quite  unexpected  outburst. 

"  Nothing;  never  mind  about  me  !  "  she  replied.  "I 
am  only  weeping  over  this  wretched  life,  and  over  my- 
self. If  you  only  knew  what  I  have  passed  through 
within  the  last  twenty-four  hours, — ah,  you  would  weep 
with  me,  man  that  you  are,  and  it  would  become  you, 
Bertelskold  !  You  have  a  heart  !  But  I  do  not  want 
to  give  you  any  sorrow,  and  so  we  will  be  happy.  Look 
at  me  now, — is  not  this  all  right  ?  Am  I  not  happy 
again  ? " 

And  so  sadly,  so  charmingly  she  smiled,  while  the 
tears  were  still  glistening  beneath  her  eyelashes,  that 
that  smile,  far  more  than  the  unwonted  sorrow,  drew 
moisture  to  the  eyes  of  the  young  man. 

"  Confide  to  me  what  troubles  you,"  he  pleaded. 
"  My  power  is  not  great,  but  my  whole  life  belongs  to 
you." 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  not  now,  not  at  all.  In  the  morn- 
ing you  will  perhaps  find  out  more.  And  if  unforeseen 
events  should  occur, — if  we  should  see  each  other  no 
more, — I  do  not  want  you  to  think  ill  of  me.  You  know 
we  are  standing  on  the  brink  of  a  revolution  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,  my  lady." 

"All  may  succeed,  all  may  miscarry.  And  in  order 
to  succeed.  King  Gustaf  has  needed  time  and  money. 
I  have  procured  him  both.  Do  not  ask  me  how.  Con- 
tent yourself  with  the  assurance  that  the  king  was  to 
have  been  arrested  to-day  by  the  council,  but  that  it  is 
deferred  till  the  day  after  to-morrow,  when  the  troops 
arrive,  and  that  delay  may  save  everything.     As  to  the 


MORNING   LIGHT.  281 

money, — at  noon  to-day  he  was  poorer  than  Charles 
Stuart,  but  for  the  last  three  hours  he  has  had  enough. 
Oh,  this  nation,  this  nation  which  in  its  poverty  was 
once  the  most  knightly  and  proud  in  Europe, — it  is  now 
bought  and  sold  like  any  other  commodity  !  But  what 
is  that  to  me  ?  I  am  French.  I  have  served  Gustaf 
III  because  he  is  a  high-minded  king,  and  because  I 
once  thought  I  loved  him  ....  You  need  not 
look  so  darkly  at  me,  Bertelskold.  If  I  had  reason  to 
blush  before  you,  I  should  not  tell  you  that.  I  have 
loved  him  as  one  loves  a  brilliant  meteor,  and  my  ad- 
miration has  long  since  outlived  the  dream  of  my  love. 
In  short,  he  must  be  saved.  Could  I  do  otherwise? 
Must  I  not  sacrifice  everything  for  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lady.     Everything  except  honor." 

Trembling  with  anger,  the  marchioness  sprung  up. 

"And  what  gives  you  the  right,  sir,  to  pierce  me 
with  poisoned  arrows  ?  Good  heavens  !  When  have  I 
fallen  so  low  that  the  first  one  to  whom  I  open  my  heart 
ventures  to  remind  me  of  my  honor  !  Do  you  know, 
sir,  why  I  was  exiled  from  the  French  court, — yes. 
exiled  by  a  polite  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Noailles  !  It 
is  not  known  here,  for  I  have  not  condescended  to 
boast  of  it.  I  was  exiled  because  at  a  cour  of  the 
court,  when  all  were  prostrating  themselves  before 
Countess  Du  Barry,  I  was  the  only  one  who  had  the 
courage  to  turn  the  back  to  her." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  my  lady.  I  am  incapable 
of  insulting  you  with  the  slightest  thought.  I  said 
only  what  I  have  every  day  said  to  myself." 

"  I  will  believe  you,  my  lord.  I  should  not  believe 
any  one  else.  In  what  a  terrible  time  do  we  live  ! 
Where  is  the  honor  of  man  ?  Where  is  the  self-respect 
of  woman  ?  The  one  is  bought  with  a  title,  the  other 
with  a  royal  smile,  and  both  are  for  sale  for  gold.  Do 
you  know,  Bertelskold,  I  am  tired  of  all  this  wretched- 
ness! I  have  seen  enough  of  it.  I  want  to  go  away  to 
empty  nothingness;  it  will  be  beautiful  to  perish.  You 
13* 


282  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

know  our  philosophers  say  that  there  is  nothing  beyond 
the  grave.  Is  it  not  so?  I  remember  that  you  too  lay 
claim  to  a  kind  of  philosophy  !  " 

Paul  started.  He  had  not  for  some  time  thought  of 
that.  He  had  only  heard  his  mother  read  aloud  from 
the  Bible,  when  he  was  lying  wounded  in  the  little  hunt- 
ing-lodge. It  now  suddenly  became  clear  to  him  that 
before  him  yawned  an  abyss  of  terrible  emptiness. 
What  was  he  to  reply  ?  The  dark  doubt  of  the  spirit 
of  the  age  was  sitting  there  before  him  in  the  most 
charming  shape,  armed  with  all  the  enchantment  of 
beauty,  with  all  the  seductive  witchery  of  first  love,  and, 
in  passing,  lightly  threw  out  a  question  of  life  and 
death,  of  time  and  eternity.  A  shudder  quivered 
through  his  inmost  being;  he  would  have  liked  to  reply: 
Yes,  yes,  there  is  nothing  beyond  the  grave  !  .  ... 
But  he  had  not  the  power.  He  trem'bled  at  the  thought 
that  this  gentle  being  should  forever  perish  ! 

**  No,"  said  he  against  his  will,  "  it  cannot  be  so. 
There  must  be  a  God,  and  a  life  beyond  this." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  It  is  possible,  for  the  philo- 
sophers are  no  better  than  all  the  others.  I  wish  it  may 
be  so.  In  this  world  there  is  no  peace.  I  am  twenty- 
four  years  old,  and  I  have  laughed  more  than  many 
another  at  life,  but  believe  me,  I  have  never  been  happy. 
I  was  brought  up  in  a  convent,  and  thrown  from  it, 
while  yet  a  child,  into  the  arms  of  an  old  roue\  whom 
I  hated  until  I  learned  to  despise  him.  Two  years 
afterward,  the  marquis  died;  I  was  a  widow,  and  made 
haste  to  resume  my  family  name.  But  those  two  years 
had  been  enough  to  poison  my  faith  in  life.  I  resolved 
to  laugh  at  everything,  and  I  kept  my  word.  My 
transient  admiration  attached  itself  to  the  brilliant  and 
amiable  crown  prince  of  Sweden,  when  he  was  in  Paris, 
but  my  heart  remained  empty  and  cool  as  his.  And 
yet  I  too  was  formed  to  love  as  only  a  woman  can  love. 
I  too  sometimes  felt  a  longing  to  give  my  life  for 
another.      But  I  did  not  understand  myself.     From  a 


MORNING  LIGHT.  283 

desire  for  a  change  and  from  curiosity,  I  came  to  see  a 
saga-like  land  which  was  not  like  ours.  I  did  not 
think  that  among  its  cold  ices  I  should  some  day  find 
you  !  " 

"  My  lady     ,     .     .     ." 

"  Oh,  my  lord,"  sadly  continued  the  beautiful 
French  woman,  "  you  need  not  answer  me  that  you  pity 
a  poor,  unfortunate  creature,  who  thought  herself 
strong,  and  yet  was  weak  enough  to  confide  to  you 
what  she  perhaps  ought  forever  to  have  shut  within  her 
own  heart.  We  understand  each  other,  and  I  do  not 
know  what  should  now  prevent  my  telling  you  all.  I 
have  loved  you,  Paul,  from  the  first  hour  I  saw  you,  and 
you  are  my  first,  my  only  love.  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  ought  to  curse  or  bless  the  hour  I  saw  you  ;  I  only 
know  that  my  whole  soul  belongs  to  you." 

"  Herminie     .     .     .     ." 

*'  Hold  .  .  .  say  no  more  I  There  are  holy  emo- 
tions which  are  wounded  to  death  in  a  single  word. 
Do  you  think  I  would  have  told  you  what  I  now  have 
in  order  to  beg  you  to  return  my  love  ?  Oh,  if  you 
thought  that,  it  would  pain  me  more  than  if  you  de- 
clared a  mortal  hatred  for  me!  No,  my  friend,  .... 
let  me  call  you  thus  ;  it  is  a  cool  word,  and  will  per- 
haps calm  us  both  ;....!  tell  you  this  because  we 
are  probably  going  to  be  parted  forever.  If  you,  with 
your  nineteen  years,  could  forget  that  I  am  five  years 
older  than  you,  I  am  too  proud  to  wish  to  see  myself 
some  day  crowded  out  by  a  younger  rival,  and  I  love 
you  too  well  to  wish  to  see  you  ensnared  by  that  fleet- 
ing emotion  you  believe  you  cherish  for  me.  No,  my 
friend,  that  which  now  gives  me  courage  is  the  certainty 
that  we  shall  never  belong  to  each  other.  Say  no 
more,  ask  no  more!  Tell  me  only  that,  in  case  this  meet- 
ing should  be  our  last,  you  will  sometimes  think  with 
affection  of  a  woman  who  is  not  so  coquettish,  so  friv- 
olous, and  perhaps  so  unworthy  your  esteem,  as  she 
seems  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ..." 


284  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  And  if  you  a  hundred  times  crush  me  with  those 
vague  words  about  a  separation,  which  I  do  not  under- 
stand, it  shall  not  hinder  me  from  saying  to  you,  Her- 
minie,  that  I  love  you,  that  I  breathe  only  for  you,  and 
that  you  shall  be  mine,  even  if  I  must  struggle  against 
a  whole  world  and  against  yourself  to  make  you  mine  !  " 
burst  out  Paul,  with  all  the  transport  of  his  nineteen 
years  and  his  glowing  heart.  "  And  you  think  I  would 
give  you  up,  in  such  a  moment  as  this,  when  for  the 
first  time  I  have  gained  a  clear  look  into  your  soul,  and 
for  the  first  time  understand  that  you  are  the  noblest 
and  most  high-minded  woman  that  I  ever  knew, — 
except  one  !  Yes,  Herminie,  yes,  my  lady,  you  shall 
have  a  rival,  .  .  .  not  such  a  one  as  you  lately  said,  but 
one  who  will  bless  our  love,  and  against  whose  heart 
you  can  lean  as  safely  as  a  child.  It  is  my  mother, 
Herminie;  she  will  understand  you,  she  thinks  like  you; 
and  who  in  the  wide  world  will  then  be  richer  than  I, 
who  have  fzco  such  hearts  !  " 

Paul  had  taken  her  hand  and  was  pressing  it  to  his 
lips.  Then  a  va/ef  appeared  in  the  door,  and,  perhaps 
not  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes,  announced  with  ex- 
treme ceremony  that  the  souper  was  served. 

Paul  did  not  observe  him.  He  only  felt  a  hot  tear 
drop  on  his  hand. 

But  the  marchioness  rose.  "  Farewell,"  said  she 
in  a  broken  voice.  "  By  this  time  to-morrow  our  fate 
will  be  decided." 

She  then  took  his  arm,  and  again  entered  among 
the  guests,  with  the  bounding  step,  the  light  fleeting 
smile  on  her  handsome  lips,  and  the  charming  coquetry 
admired  by  all  the  court. 

"  I  know  all  about  it  now,  your  majesty  !  "  said  she 
merrily.  "  I  now  know  that  ugly  goblin  with  the  red 
cap,  that  rides  on  your  majesty's  chair  when  you  write, 
sire,  and  who  whispers  to  you  the  admirable  things 
with  which  you  charm  the  world.  I  would  greatly  like 
to  know  what  he  has  to  say  to  you  to-night." 


MORNING  LIGHT.  285 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    19TH    OF    AUGUST. 

THE  king  had  employed  a  part  of  the  night  in  let- 
ter-writing, and  had  afterward  visited  the  guards. 
He  had  now  returned,  and  was  sitting,  thoughtful  and 
sleepless,  in  his  cabinet. 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  " 

"  Half  past  two  in  the  morning." 

*'  Is  the  day  dawning  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  your  majesty." 

"  Lie  down  in  the  outer  room,  Bertelskold.  You 
have  slept  but  little  lately,  and  the  day  which  is  draw- 
ing on  may  try  our  strength." 

"  I  thank  your  majesty.     I  am  not  sleepy." 

"  Sleep,  my  friend,  sleep  !  While  the  husbandman 
sleeps,  the  field  ripens  for  the  harvest.  You  promise, 
I  believe,  to  take  care  of  my  letters  to  the  Duke  of 
Sudermania  and  to  Count  Vergennes  ?  " 

"  They  shall  be  dispatched  by  day-break." 

"  Very  well.  You  are  faithful  and  trustworthy, 
Bertelskold.  I  thought  you  were  a  raisonneur,  like  the 
others." 

"  A  dog  is  also  faithful,  your  majesty.  I  do  not 
serve  my  king  for  the  monarchy,  but  for  liberty." 

"  That  is  right.  I  shall  not  forget  you  if  I  live  till 
evening.  If  I  fall,  I  leave  to  the  duke  my  bloody 
mantle." 

"  That  will  take  place." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  I  shall  fall  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  your  majesty  is  going  to  triumph." 

"  God  grant  it.  Baron  Pechlin  deceived  you  when 
he  wanted  to  buy  the  plan  of  the  revolution.     He  had 


286  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

it  with  him,  just  as  he  knew  my  letter  to  the  king  of 
France.  Egmont  was  right :  DuBarry  has  betrayed 
us." 

"  May  I  venture  to  ask  your  majesty  whence  Mar- 
chioness Egmont  obtained  money?  " 

"  The  marchioness  ?  What  do  you  know  about 
that?" 

"  I  only  know  that  she  has  effected  a  delay  of  the 
council's  plans,  and  procured  money  in  a  way  which 
necessarily  signified  danger  to  herself." 

"  My  God  !  And  you  have  not  told  me  of  it  be- 
fore !  She  did  not  mention  a  word  of  that.  I  now 
understand  all." 

*'  I  conjure  your  majesty  to  guard  her  life  and  safe- 
ty. She  is  ensnared  with  cabals  and  envy.  Once  before 
she  came  near  falling  a  victim  to  them.  A  sauve  garde 
at  her  /^l/t'/ would  perhaps  not  be  superfluous." 

"  I  will  give  Taube  orders  about  that.  But  what 
danger  can  threaten  her  ?  Singular  !  .  .  ,  What  time 
is  it?" 

"  Three." 

"  It  is  time  to  sleep.  You  will  await  furttier  or- 
ders." 

Without  disrobing,  the  king  threw  himself  upon  a 
sofa,  and  Paul  withdrew.  In  the  outer  room  the  adju- 
tant on  duty  was  nodding  in  an  arm-chair.  An  old 
valet  was  looking  with  melancholy  eyes  at  the  buckles 
on  his  shoes.  A  lamp,  suspended  from,  the  ceiling, 
flickered  as  in  a  sick-room.     A  kingdom  was  sick. 

Paul  placed  himself  at  a  window.  Before  him  lay 
the  Swedish  metropolis,  still  wrapped  in  the  shadows  of 
night,  and  only  far  in  the  remote  east  a  faint  streak  in 
the  sky  above  the  sea  seemed  to  announce  the  dawning 
day  which  was  to  decide  the  destiny  of  Sweden  and  its 
king  for  the  next  generation. 

All  was  silent.  Stockholm  was  asleep,  Sweden  was 
asleep,  Finland  was  asleep.  The  long  evening  was 
past,  the  hand  on  the  dial  of  the  time  of  liberty  pointed 


MORNING  LIGHT.  287 

to  midnight,  and  the  morning  of  the  Gustavian  period 
was  dawning  upon  the  horizon. 

After  twenty  minutes  the  king  rang,  and  Paul  was 
called  in. 

"What  do  you  think  of   the  marchioness's  ring  ?  " 

"  I  should  value  it  for  the  giver's  sake, "  replied  Paul, 
who  in  this  was  quite  ingenuous,  and  did  not  sus- 
pect how  closely  the  jewel  was  connected  with  his  own 
family. 

"  But  you  heard  the  insane  alchemist  ascribe  super- 
natural qualities  to  the  ring  ?  " 

"Yes.     Why  else  would  he  have  been  insane  ? " 

"  There  are  things,  however,  which  we  cannot  ex- 
plain. But  ...  sit  down  at  the  writing-table  !  "  said 
the  king  after  a  little  reflection. 

Under  the  supposition  that  the  business  concerned 
some  important  order  touching  the  revolution,  Paul 
obeyed.     The  king  dictated  as  follows  : 

"  My  dear  Baron  : — 

"In  my  letter  of  Wednesday,  I  made  the  remark  that  our 
old  tennis-court  is  the  most  wretched  theater  in  Europe,  and  in 
this  particular  can  only  be  surpassed  by  its  performers,  Stenborg's 
Swedish  thedtrc-tnnipe.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  a  beautiful  art  and  a 
beautiful  language.  In  case  that  through  any  unforseen  event  I 
should  fall,  I  bequeath  to  you  my  id^  of  erecting  a  new  theater  on 
Norrmalm's  square,  where  I  have  also  intended  to  place  a  statue 
of  King  Gustaf  Adolf.  My  opinion  is  that  the  Swedish  theater 
can  not  crowd  out  the  French  under  any  form  but  the  opera, 
which,  uniting  in  itself  all  the  resources  of  theater,  music,  paint- 
ing and  the  plastic  arts,  will  reconcile  the  ear  with  a  language  even 
harsher  than  ours.  Among  objects  worthy  an  elevated  taste,  I 
recommend  for  our  scene  Birger  Jarl  and  Gustaf  Vasa.  This  in 
case  we  no  more  have  an  opportunity  to  confer  on  the  subject.  In 
the  other  event,  I  will,  with  your  aid,  take  care  that  Sweden  does 
not  long  lack  a  temple  for  the  muses. 
"  Your  affectionate —  " 

The  king  subscribed  "Gustaf."  He  had  time  to 
think  of  everything.  In  that  moment,  when  the  crown 
sat  so  loosely  on  his  head,  and,  with  every  oscillation 
of  the  pendulum,  dangers  were  approaching,  he  had 
lain  awake  thinking  of  the  Swedish  muses 


288  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"To  whom  shall  I  address  the  letter?"  asked  Paul. 

"  To  Baron  Ehrensvard What  time  is  it  ?  " 

'*A  quarter  of  four." 

"  Give  orders  to  have  me  wakened  at  seven  o'clock." 

Paul  left  the  room.  Fainter  and  fainter  burned  the 
lamp  in  the  ante-chamber,  and  the  early  summer  morn- 
ing was  beginning  to  dawn  above  the  headland  of  Val- 
demar  in  the  zoological  garden  at  the  northeast. 
Worn  out  by  night-watching,  the  young  man  sank 
down  in  a  chair,  with  his  nead  leaning  against  the  win- 
dow casement,  and  slept,  contrary  to  his  will,  so  heavi- 
ly that  he  did  not  awake  until  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens. 

Astonished,  he  sprang  up.  It  was  already  eight 
o'clock;  the  hair-dresser  had  come,  and  the  valet  was 
busy  dressing  the  king.  On  this  memorable  day, 
Gustaf  III.  wore  black  silk  stockings,  shoes  with  ob- 
long silver  buckles,  black  breeches,  a  plain  blue  coat 
with  gilt  buttons,  a  common,  officer's  sword,  unpow- 
dered  confined  hair,  and  a  three-cornered  hat  without 
plume. 

After  having  taken  a  horseback  ride,  the  king  re- 
tired to  his  room,  to  leave  it  again  before  ten  o'clock. 
His  ordinarily  tranquil  and  bright  eyes  were  dimmed 
by  tears.  But  Gustaf  III.  was  beautiful  at  that  mo- 
ment when,  in  a  game  for  his  crown,  he  went  forth  to 
rescue  his  kingdom  from  the  fate  of  Poland. 

He  went  to  the  council  chamber,  and  it  was  the 
imperial  council  that  began  the  revolution  by  the  de- 
fiant demand  that  the  king  should  read  aloud  the  letter 
which  he  had  the  night  before  received  from  the  Duke 
Charles.  He  refused,  and  an  animated  altercation 
arose.  Some  of  the  more  impetuous  of  the  councilors 
wished  immediately  to  assure  themselves  of  his  person, 
and  take  from  him  his  sword.  They  had  already  had 
rooms  fitted  up  where  he  was  to  be  held  a  prisoner 
at  Kastenhof. 

Councilor  Count  Kalling,  who  was  invested  by  the 


MORNING  LIGHT.  289 

council  with  unlimited  authority  in  the  city  of  Stock- 
holm, tried  to  prevent  the  king's  leaving  the  council- 
chamber.  Trembling  with  such  anger,  as  he  had  never 
shown  before,  Gustaf  III.  tore  himself  loose,  threw 
himself  on  his  waiting  horse,  and  rode  to  the  artillery- 
yard,  where  he  reviewed  the  troops.  "  Svenska  Bot- 
ten,"  and  many  other  officers,  had  already  gathered 
around  his  person,  and,  at  the  head  of  this  crowd  of 
friends,  the  king  set  out  on  his  return  on  foot  to  the 
palace.  From  this  moment,  events  crowded  upon  each 
other,  and  the  fair-wind  of  public  opinion  grew  to  a 
tempest. 

Paul  Bertelskold  had  in  the  morning  been  occu- 
pied with  the  king's  orders,  and  not  until  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  forenoon  found  leisure  to  go  out.  He  then  set 
out  quickly  for  Marchioness  Egmont's  house  on  Drott- 
ning  Street;  but  that  day  it  was  not  easy  to  make  his 
way.  All  Stockholm  was  in  motion,  and  all  the  prin- 
cipal streets  were  filled  with  crowds  of  people.  A  re- 
port had  swept  like  a  hurricane  through  the  city  that 
something  was  on  the  tapis  against  the  safety  not  of 
the  kingdom,  but  of  the  king. 

When  Paul  was  about  to  turn  to  the  left  across  Norr- 
malm's  (now  Gustaf  Adolf's)  Square,  in  order  after- 
ward by  a  turn  to  the  right  to  enter  Drottning  Street, 
he  found  the  road  blockaded  by  several  hundred  sailors, 
journeymen,  and  iron-workers,  who,  irresolute,  were 
flocked  together  around  an  uncommonly  large  and 
athletic  man,  clad  in  a  threadbare  blue  wadmal  jacket, 
tallowed  seamed-boots,  and  a  kind  of  student-cap  awry 
over  his  ear.  This  figure,  half  gentleman,  half  servant- 
man,  and,  for  the  rest,  of  a  good-natured  jovial  ap- 
pearance, had,  unnecessarily  enough,  for  he  was  any- 
wise a  head  taller  than  any  of  the  others,  climbed  up 
on  the  steps  of  a  store,  and  from  that  perch  was  making 
a  kind  of  speech,  whose  well-known  accent  immediately 
indicated  a  Finn  from  the  vicinity  of  Abo.  Unfortu- 
nately, however,  those  standing  some  distance  away 
13  T 


290  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

could  catch  only  scattered  fragments  of  the  speech, 
for  the  audience  was  noisy,  and  shouted  as  loudly 
as  the  speaker. 

"What  is  he  saying  over  there?"  asked  Paul,  who 
was  unable  to  advance,  and  to  his  surprise  recognized 
his  honest  old  friend,  Eudoxius  Lejonfall,  nick-named 
Leo,  the  aforetime  theological  student  of  Abo  univer- 
sity. 

"  He  is  getting  off  something  about  the  leaking  in 
the  hold;  the  vessel  is  careening,  and  the  Finns  are 
bracing  the  jib-boom,"  replied  the  person  accosted,  a 
sailor  from  the  fleet,  with  an  enormous  quid  of  tobacco 
in  each  cheek. 

"  I  think  likely  there  is  a  stiff  breeze  rising,  and  we 
would  do  well  to  turn  the  helm  and  run  up  the  royal 
colors,"  responded  Paul,  in  the  same  tone.  He  very 
well  knew  of  Sprengtport's  secret  embassy  to  Finland, 
with  the  design  of  beginning  the  revolution  in  Borga 
and  Sveaborg. 

"  Well,  well !  And  so  we  are  to  sail  in  the  wake  of 
the  Finns,  eh  ? "  cried  the  sailor,  insulted  in  his  Swed- 
ish ambition. 

"  Long  live  liberty  !  To  the  devil  with  the  Finns  !" 
shouted  several  voices. 

"  Down  with  that  big  lubber  over  there  on  the 
steps !  Into  the  Rose-chamber  with  him,  to  beat  the 
butter  out  of  him  !  "  cried  the  others. 

It  looked  dubious  for  our  friend  Leo,  and,  what 
was  worse,  for  the  cause  of  the  king. 

"  Is  there  not  a  student  here  ? "  the  heavy  bass 
of  the  unsuccessful  speaker  was  heard  to  utter  amidst 
the  din,  for  he  was  beginning  to  get  into  difficulty  on 
account  of  his  dangerous  news.  But  if  there  was  a 
student  to  be  found  in  the  crowd,  he  kept  discreetly 
silent,  for  the  gathering  consisted  of  just  such  people  as 
Upsala  students  used  every  evening  to  fight  with  on 
the  streets. 

Paul  drew  nearer,  and  succeeded  in  arriving  unob- 


MORNING  LIGHT.  291 

served  at  the  steps  just  at  the  right  moment,  when  a 
dozen  hands  were  already  reaching  after  the  Finnish 
giant's  threadbare  wadmal  collar,  and  he  was  hitting 
right  and  left  with  accustomed  arm  and  imperturbable 
tranquillity,  but  with  small  prospect  of  being  victorious 
over  the  superior  force. 

With  one  bound,  Paul  was  at  his  side,  and,  pushing 
back  the  boldest  of  the  assailants,  he  shouted  in  a  loud 
voice:  "  Long  live  the  king  !  " 

"  Kas  perkele  f  Are  you  here  ?"  cried  Leo,  with  de- 
light. "  Roll  up  your  sleeves,  and  let  us  beat  them 
black  and  blue,  as  many  of  them  as  there  are  !  Long 
live  the  king  !  " 

But  Paul  turned  to  the  excited  multitude,  and,  again 
raising  his  voice  as  high  as  he  could,  said:  "  Every  no- 
ble Swede  who  to-day  shouts  '  Long  live  liberty  ! '  must 
also  shout, '  Long  live  the  king!'  They  want  to  imprison 
our  king;  but  while  one  honest  Swedish  heart  beats,  it 
shall  not  be  done  !  And,  therefore,  I  once  more  shout, 
'  Long  live  the  king  I'  " 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

IN    THE    MIDST    OF    JUBILATION. 

THE  short  speech  of  Paul  Bertelskold  evidently 
produced  a  better  effect  than  that  of  the  pre- 
ceding speaker.  The  crowd  clamored  as  before,  but 
opinions  were  divided. 

"  He  lies,  the  nobility  whelp  !  "  bawled  a  slim  jour- 
neyman-tailor, threateningly  raising  his  terrible  arm. 

"  Chop  him  into  mince-meat  !  "  shouted  an  heroic 
sausage-maker. 

"  Long  live  liberty  !  "  cried  a  two-foot  confection- 
er's-apprentice. 


292  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  But  you  see  they  must  quit  keelhauling  the  king  !" 
muttered  the  sailor  with  the  two  quids. 

"  He  is  a  good  king,  he  stands  on  the  side  of  the 
people  against  the  lords,"  said  the  iron-workers. 

"  That  is  why  the  lords  think  of  cutting  his  throat," 
put  in  a  barber  who  never  shaved  any  one  but  royal- 
ists. 

"  For  shame  !  Quit  throwing  dust  in  people's 
eyes!  "  shrieked  a  hair-dresser  of  the  opposite  party. 

Public  opinion  was  swaying  hither  and  thither, 
when  royalty  again  gained  a  dangerous  enemy  in  one 
of  the  Cap  party's  most  shrewd  and  experienced  assist- 
ants, the  same  Hallberg  who  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  made  use  of  for  the  recruiting  of  peasants  at  the 
diet.  He  climbed  up  on  another  flight  of  steps,  and 
made  a  speech  in  his  fashion. 

"  You  see  the  king  is  well  enough,"  said  he,  "  for 
any  one  who  wants  to  be  a  dog  and  take  a  drubbing  ; 
but  I  am  a  plain  peasant,  and  think  that  the  Swedes 
might  just  as  well  be  free  as  obey  the  whip.  I  do  not 
know  what  the  imperial  council  is  about,  but  it  is  whis- 
pered here  in  the  city  that  the  king  thinks  of  selling 
Finland  to  the  Russians,  and  when  that  gentleman 
attains  absolute  power,  he  thinks  of  selling  to  the  Hol- 
landers all  trade  in  tobacco,  and  to  the  Englishmen  all 
trade  in  salt,  and  of  imposing  a  poll-tax  of  two  rix- 
dollars  on  all  laborers,  to  be  used  with  the  Turks  ;  for 
you  see  the  gentleman  needs  monej'.  And  although  I 
am  only  a  poor  peasant,  I  think  that  the  council  and 
the  estates  of  the  realm  have  got  scent  of  the  matter, 
and  expect  shortly  to  crack  the  whip." 

"  Long  live  liberty  !  "  shrieked  the  adherents  of  the 
Caps,  with  all  their  might,  as  they  began  here  and  there 
to  distribute  money  for  a  health  to  the  estates. 

Paul  and  his  friends  were  perfectly  out- voiced,  and 
could  thank  their  good  luck  that  in  the  tumult  they 
were  forgotten.     The  king's  cause  looked  ill. 

Then   from  the  vicinity  of  St.   Jacob's  church  was 


MORNING   LIGHT.  293 

suddenly  heard  the  noise  of  another  and  still  greater 
mass  of  people,  and  soon  the  king  was  seen,  surrounded 
by  several  hundred  officers,  and  an  innumerable  swarm 
of  all  ages  and  conditions,  coming  on  foot  from  the 
review  at  the  artillery  yard.  He  was  warm  with  walk- 
ing, his  large  eyes  were  glancing  around  with  courage 
and  confidence,  and  he  continually  bowed  in  every 
direction.  So  irresistible  was  the  impression  of  his 
personality,  that  all  artificial  ill-will  instantaneously 
melted  away  like  snow  in  the  spring  sunshine.  At 
every  street  corner  the  jubilation  increased  and  the 
crowd  was  augmented.  Every  window  was  packed  full 
of  heads,  and  the  very  roofs  held  spectators.  Flowers 
were  thrown  from  the  windows.  It  was  a  triumphal 
march,  all  the  more  transporting  for  being  utterly  unex- 
pected and  impromptu. 

Like  a  huge,  all-absorbing  billow,  this  mass  of  peo- 
ple now  poured  out  across  Norrmalm  Square,  bearing  all 
with  it  toward  the  palace.  How  contagious  is  enthu- 
siasm !  The  same  mechanics,  sailors  and  iron-workers 
who  had  just  before  been  ready  to  stone  any  who 
shouted,  'Long  live  the  king!  '  now,  carried  away  by  the 
stream,  were  heard  to  chime  in  with  the  same  cry.  The 
weather-vane  of  the  day  was  within  a  few  moments  alto- 
gether reversed,  and  in  full  fair  wind,  now  pointed  for 
royal  authority. 

"See,"  said  King  Gustaf  to  his  companions,  "the 
north  wind  is  blowing  !  " 

The  north  wind  has  always  been  regarded  as  a 
favorable  omen,  and  when  Gustaf  Vasa  in  former  days 
began  the  war  of  deliverance  in  the  Dales,  the  norther 
was  blowing. 

Paul  Bertelskold  could  not  resist  the  general  trans- 
port. He  put  off  his  visit  to  the  marchioness,  took  his 
friend  by  the  arm,  and  followed  the  stream  of  people. 
Besides  the  king  and  his  officers,  only  some  few 
who   were   personally   known   were   admitted  by  the 


294  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

guard,  and  among  them  was  Paul,  who  drew  Leo  with 
him. 

They  paused  in  the  castle-yard,  while  the  king  made 
in  the  presentation  hall  that  short  and  brilliant  speech  to 
the  officers  and  subalterns  by  which  the  revolution  was 
first  proclaimed,  and  in  which  he  solemnly  abjured 
absolute  power  at  the  same  time  that  he  demanded  the 
restraint  of  anarchy.  All  except  Baron  Cederstrom 
swore  allegiance  to  him,  and  their  cheer  was  heard 
down  in  the  castle-yard. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  Leo. 

"  It  means  that  we  have  a  king  instead  of  the  im- 
press of  a  name,"  replied  Paul. 

"  But  why  are  those  old  gentlemen  over  there  peer- 
ing so  anxiously  out  of  the  window  ?  " 

"  They  are  the  imperial  council,  who  are  deliberat- 
ing in  the  council  chamber  whether  it  would  not  have 
been  wiser  to  arrest  the  king  two  hours  ago.  Observe 
the  embarrassed  ccuntenances  of  the  gentlemen  !  They 
do  not  like  the  cheer  in  there.  Power  is  so  tempting, 
they  have  so  long  been  omnipotent  themselves,  that  they 
do  not,  without  intense  anguish  of  heart,  see  themselves 
again  degraded  to  be  subjects  like  us  others.  I  sup- 
pose they  already  have  a  guard  before  the  door." 

And  that  was  the  case.  The  council  that  had  wished 
to  arrest  the  king  was  itself  now  guarded  and  caged. 
In  order  that  the  deposed  petty  kings  should  at  least 
not  suffer  bodily  distress,  their  dinner  was  served  on 
the  spot,  but  "  their  appetite  was  not  particularly  good," 
according  to  the  testimony  of  an  eye  witness. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  king,  with  his  numerous 
suite,  again  appeared,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  with 
naked  sword  around  the  city,  everywhere  followed  by 
the  exulting  multitude.  He  had  tied  a  white  handker- 
chief around  his  arm,  and  soon  several  thousand  such 
scarfs  were  seen.  People  thronged  around  him  ;  they 
kissed  his  clothes  ;  they  wept  and  huzzaed  at  the  same 
time.     All  the  troops  swore  allegiance  to  him,  chains 


MORNING  LIGHT.  295 

were  stretched  in  front  of  the  castle  gates,  and  cannons 
were  drawn  forth.  Of  course  it  could  not  be  known 
that  they  were  not  loaded,  for  the  artillery-men  were 
standing  beside  them  with  burning  matches. 

One  power  still  existed  which  had  been  able  to  at- 
tempt resistance,  and  that  was  the  privy  committee  of 
the  estates,  which  had  so  long  represented  the  highest, 
the  sovereign  will  of  the  people.  But  these  gentlemen, 
like  the  council,  lost  all  their  ideas,  and  after  they  had 
vociferated  among  themselves  awhile,  without  coming 
to  any  resolution,  the  secretary  gravely  locked  the  min- 
utes in  the  desk,  declaring  that  his  office  was  now 
ended. 

While  in  this  manner  the  revolution  was  extending 
around  the  whole  city,  and  Stockholm  was  surging  like 
a  restless  sea,  Paul  Bertelskold,  with  beating  heart, 
hurried  to  Marchioness  Egmont's  hotel.  He  found  a 
guard  at  the  street-door,  standing  tranquilly  with  his 
musket  on  his  shoulder.  No  assault  had  occurred,  and 
no  peril  was  to  be  perceived.  Somewhat  calmed,  Paul 
sped  up  the  secret  staircase. 

The  door  was  bolted.  He  rapped.  No  one  open- 
ed it. 

He  hurried  down  again,  and  bounded  up  the  large 
staircase.  Here  the  door  was  unbolted.  Paul  could 
not  remember  that  this  had  ever  happened  before.  But 
to-day  anything  was  explicable.  All  the  domestics, 
even  Babette,  were  out  on  the  streets. 

With  rapid  steps  Paul  passed  through  the  gay,  mag- 
nificent deserted  salon,  thence  in  through  the  large  par- 
lor, and  afterward  through  two  or  three  inner  rooms, 
quite  as  desolate  as  the  salon,  until,  silent  and  with  bated 
breath,  he  opened  the  door  to  the  marchioness'  inmost 
boudoir. 

What  a  spectacle  !  There  lay  the  beautiful  French 
woman,  clad  in  her  white  morning  costume,  herself  al- 
most as  white,  extended  on  a  little  sofa,  covered  with 
light  blue  silk.     She  seemed  to  be  asleep,  but  there  was 


206  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

no  heaving  of  her  breast.  The  rich  brown  hair,  partly 
undone,  fell  over  her  half-covered  shoulder.  A  hair- 
pin of  diamonds  which  fastened  her  morning  head- 
dress, sparkled  in  the  light,  and  a  white  rose  was  fast- 
ened on  her  bosom.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  lips 
were  shut.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  stern  and 
grave.  That  smiling,  animated  form,  which  lately 
seemed  to  live  only  for  pleasure  and  joy,  was  now  a 
statue  of  marble,  with  the  seriousness  of  eternity  spread 
over  its  beautiful  face. 

For  a  moment  Paul  paused,  himself  a  motionless 
image  of  marble;  but  the  next  moment  he  threw  him- 
self on  his  knees  beside  the  sleeper,  and  kissed  her 
hand.  The  hand  was  still  warm.  He  kissed  her  fore- 
head, her  lips,  .  .  .  they  also  were  warm.  But  she 
breathed  no  more.     She  was  dead. 

This,  he  could  not  comprehend.  His  thoughts 
stood  still.  Time  appeared  to  him  to  have  paused  in 
its  course,  and  everything  seemed  to  him  like  a  dream. 
He  did  not  weep.  He  did  not  rave.  He  made  no  at- 
tempt to  recall  her  to  life.  Mute,  motionless,  oblivious, 
he  sat  there,  all  the  time  looking  at  that  beautiful  statue, 
with  the  exalted  solemnity  on  the  white  forehead  and 
the  closed  e3-elids. 

Beside  the  sofa  stood  a  little  table  of  mahogany, 
inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl.  On  this  table  lay  a  letter. 
When  Paul's  eye  mechanically  fell  upon  it,  he  saw  his 
own  name  in  the  address. 

Unconsciously  he  broke  the  seal,  and  almost  uncon- 
sciously he  read  the  following  words  in  French  : 

"  My  dearly  loved  one  : 

"  We  cannot  belong  to  each  other,  so  why  should  I  live  ?  Do 
not  be  angry  at  me  for  leaving  life  at  the  same  time  that  I  leave 
you  !  My  life  has  been  of  no  avail,  and  I  desire  at  least  that  my 
death  shall  bring  with  it  some  blessing.  Know,  therefore,  that  I 
have  procured  for  the  king  of  Sweden  that  time  and  money  with- 
out which  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  save  his  kingdom,  in  ex- 
change for  an  oath  which  I  cannot  break.  I  have  sworn  to  belong 
from  this  day  to  a  man  whom  I  abhor.     But   Herminie  d'Egmont 


MORNING  LI&HT.  297 

will  not  sell  herself.     My  creditor   shall  have  only   my  breathless 
body. 

"  Oh,  my  beloved  !  We  two  have  lived  in  a  period  of  deep  de- 
basement. I  pity  you  who  with  pure  heart  still  remain.  But 
live,  my  Paul,  live  for  the  noble,  the  truly  great  on  earth  !  Live 
for  another  time  when  man  shall  again  love  his  honor,  woman  her 
self-respect,  and  the  nation  its  liberty  !  Give  the  same  greeting  to 
the  king  of  Sweden,  and  to  your  mother.  And  afterward,  .  .  . 
think  sometimes,  with  affection,  of  a  poor,  unhappy  woman  who 
has  loved  you  too  much  to  wish  to  chain  you  to  her  squandered 
happiness,  and  who  in  death  remains,  with  unstained  honor. 

Your  Herminie, 
Marchioness  d'Egmont." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A    NAME. 

WHAT  a  continuous  jubilation  were  those  days  in 
Stockholm  !  It  was  not  a  revolution,  it  was 
a  Dopular  festival.  It  was  not  delight,  it  was  delirium. 
No  blood  flowed,  but  all  the  more  flowed  ale,  brandy, 
and  the  juice  of  the  grape.  One  wise  man,  in  speaking 
of  the  into.xicating  joy  in  1772,  said  that  it  was  too 
intense  to  be  lasting. 

Everything  indeed  had  been  successful  beyond  all 
expectation.  The  burning  matches  had  not  been 
applied  to  the  cannons,  the  ready  cartridges  had 
not  been  discharged.  The  closed  gates  had  not 
transformed  Stockholm  to  a  prison.  The  chains  before 
the  palace  gate  denied  that  they  were  chains  for  free- 
dom. Had  not  the  king  himself  protested  that  he  re- 
garded it  as  his  greatest  honor  to  be  "  the  chief  citizen 
of  a  free  people  ?  "  And  how  mildly,  how  courtly  did 
he  use  his  victory  !  Even  the  arrested  petty  kings 
were  soon  released,  and  the  same  gentlemen  who  in  the 
morning  had  wished  to   prevent   their  monarch    from 


298  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

leaving  his  own  royal  castle,  in  the  evening  obtained 
the  favor  of  kissing  his  hand. 

After  the  first  threatening  measures,  after  the  ar- 
rests and  warnings,  quickly  followed  the  tranquillizing 
manifestoes,  the  voluntary  royal  assurance,  the  par- 
dons and  rewards,  and  the  oaths  of  allegiance  from 
high  and  low.  How  the  handsome  young  monarch, 
with  his  gentle  and  yet  dignified  bearing,  was  admired  ! 
How  people  thronged  around  him  wherever  he  ap- 
peared !  When  he  halted  his  horse  in  the  midst  of  the 
multitude,  the  people  kissed  his  feet  ;  and  many  of  the 
haughty  nobility,  who  had  just  been  talking  against 
the  king  in  a  tone  of  contempt,  now  competed  for  the 
honor  of  carrying  the  train  of  his  mantle  during  this 
homage. 

One  alone  there  was  who  was  indifferent  to  the 
general  jubilation  round  about  him;  and  that  was  Paul 
Bertelskold.  He  had  awakened  out  of  his  first  pain, 
and  lived  for  one  other  thought  alone,  ...  a  thought 
closely  connected  with  it.  Enthusiastic  in  love  and  in 
hate,  his  whole  soul  hung  on  the  bitter-sweet  comfort; 
that,  though  he  could  not  live  for  that  beloved  one,  he 
would  at  least  be  revenged  for  her  death. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  that  memorable  day,  Paul 
was  called  to  the  king.  He  was  obliged  to  obey,  and 
went. 

Gustaf  ni  had  been  great  that  day,  ....  not  be- 
cause he  had  triumphed,  but  because  he  had  pardoned. 
Around  his  brow  still  shone  that  royal  pride  of  victory 
which  was  ennobled  by  the  consciousness  of  having 
saved  not  only  his  crown  but  his  nation.  But  the 
almost  miraculous  nature  of  his  unexpected  success 
seemed,  in  itself,  to  fill  him  with  that  emotion  of  humil- 
ity which  irresistibly  seizes  the  conqueror  on  the  battle- 
field, when  he  is  conscious  of  being  borne  forward 
toward  his  object,  by  higher,  invisible  powers,  m.ightier 
than  his  will,  his  weapons,  or  his  military  genius.    With 


MORNING  LIGHT.  299 

a  lofty,  noble,  royal  gaze,  he  looked  at  the  pale  young 
man,  and  said  to  him  : 

"I  have  not  summoned  you,  Count  Bertelskold, 
that  you  may  share  my  joy,  but  that  I  may  share  your 
grief.  I  rejoiced  that  our  happy  revolution  had  not 
cost  a  single  drop  of  blood,  and  I  now  find  that  the 
victory  was  bought  at  a  high  price.  I  have  gained  a 
kingdom,  but  lost  a  friend.  If  I  were  not,  as  king, 
obligated  to  place  the  happiness  of  my  people  above 
my  personal  feelings,  I  should  perhaps  confess  to  you 
that  I  have  lost  more  than  I  have  gained.  Had  it  not 
been  for  Marchioness  Egmont,  I  should  now  be  a  pris- 
oner in  my  own  castle.  That  is  the  only  consolation  I 
can  write  to  the  countess,  her  aunt,  in  Paris." 

"  I  have  a  greeting  to  bring  your  majesty,"  said 
Paul,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  produced  the  last  letter  of 
the  marchioness. 

The  king  read  it,  and  his  countenance  darkened. 

"  Do  not  ask  to  know  any  more  about  this  secret,'" 
said  he.  "  The  person  of  whom  the  marchioness  speaks 
is  beyond  the  laws  of  my  realm,  and  even  if  he  were 
not,  there  is  no  proof.  The  consciences  of  the  crimi- 
nals must  themselves  be  their  judge." 

"  His  name,  your  majesty!  In  mercy,  only  his 
name!  " 

"  What  are  you  asking  of  me?  This  happy  day 
has  already  been  clouded  by  sorrows;  am  I  to  darken 
it  still  more  by  an  act  of  revenge?  No,  Bertelskold, 
revenge,  in  this  instance,  would  never  reach  its  object; 
it  would  only  hurl  you,  and  perhaps  myself,  into  ruin, 
aud  set  the  toilsomely  achieved  welfare  of  my  kingdom 
at  stake." 

"  Your  majesty  was  pleased  last  night  to  express 
your  gracious  gratification  over  my  humble  services, 
and  to  add  a  promise  to  remember  me  to-night.  If  I 
may  venture  to  request  that  single  name,  I  shall  regard 
myself  more  than  royally  rewarded." 

"No,  not  now,  at  least  not  to-day.     You  are  not  yet 


300  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

able  to  control  your  feelings,  and  still  you  must.  But 
if,  after  some  days,  you  ask  to  know  a  secret  which  it 
would  perhaps  have  been  happier  for  you  never  to 
have  suspected,  I  will  fulfill  your  wish.  To-day  we 
will  devote  only  regretful  memories  to  that  high-mind- 
ed woman,  who  is  far  greater  than  you  or  any  one 
except  myself  can  guess,  but  who  chose  rather  to  be 
looked  upon  as  a  volatile  coquette,  than  be  the  admi- 
ration of  her  time.  Yes,  she  is  right, — we  must  live 
for  true  greatness;  for  liberty,  enlightenment,  science, 
art,  humanity.  I  will  follow  her  counsel.  I  and  your 
mother,  she  says!  Your  mother  then  must  be  an  ex- 
traordinary character,  for  Marchioness  Egmont  was 
severe  toward  her  own  sex.  Present  my  compliments 
to  the  countess,  your  mother,  and  my  wish  to  see  her 
presented  at  court.  I  remember  that  she  is  a  born 
Countess  Stenbock?  " 

"  My  father's  first  wife  was  a  Countess  Stenbock, 
but  I  am  a  son  of  his  second  marriage,"  replied  Paul, 
blushing  against  his  will.  One  person  existed  which 
made  him  forget  even  Marchioness  Egmont,  and  that 
was  his  mother. 

"  Ah,  I  remember  now,"  responded  the  king,  who 
knew  all  the  noble  families  in  the  realm,  "your  moth- 
er's maiden  name  was  Falkenberg." 

"  That  was  my  grandmother,"  replied  Paul;  and 
added  in  a  firm  voice,  "  my  mother  was  a  Lars- 
son,  the  daughter  of  a  Vasa  burgher." 

The  king  smiled,  perhaps  to  conceal  a  certain  em- 
barrassment; for  presenting  a  burgher's  daughter  at 
court,  even  though  she  were  a  newly-fledged  countess, 
could  hardly  come  in  question.  But  he  instantly  col- 
lected himself,  and  complaisantly  responded: 

"  So  you  belong  to  the  Vasa  stock,  on  the  mother's 
side.  The  name  is  so  dear  to  me,  as  to  every  Swede, 
that  I  would  like  to  be  able  to  do  something  for  the 
town  of  Vasa,  and  when  I  have  opportunity  I  will  con- 
fer with  your  mother  about  it.     But  you  need  rest  and 


MORNING   LIGHT.  301 

quiet,  my  dear  Bertelskold.  How  long  a  vacation 
would  you  like?  " 

"I  shall  be  grateful  if  your  majesty  will  allow  me 
a  month  to  visit  Falkby." 

"  It  is  granted.  Is  there  anything  else  you  wish? 
For  instance,  the  title  of  Gentleman  of  the  Bed- 
chamber? " 

"  I  thank  your  majesty,  but  I  do  not  know  how  to 
place  value  upon  that." 

"  Your  mother  is  Finnish,  so  I  pardon  you  for  hav- 
ing a  will  of  your  own,"  pleasantly  responded  the  king. 
"  Then  I  shall  act  accordingly,  and  try  to  invent  some- 
thing more  to  your  taste.     Au  rei'oir." 

With  a  thorn  in  his  heart,  Paul  departed. 

Then  followed  those  memorable  days  when  the 
work  of  the  revolution  was  completed  by  a  legal  ratifi- 
cation. On  the  twentieth  of  August  the  oath  was 
taken  by  all  the  departments  of  the  government,  and 
by  the  citizens  of  Stockholm.  On  the  twenty-first  of 
August  the  estates  so  lately  absolute  were  assembled 
to  place  a  king  on  the  throne  of  the  nation.  History 
has  borne  witness  of  that  day,  and  this  story  shyly 
steps  into  the  shade,  only  to  pluck  a  trampled  and  for- 
gotten blossom  from  the  broad  highway. 

It  was  then  King  Gustaf  made  the  most  beautiful 
of  all  his  many  beautiful  speeches,  and  it  went  like  a 
flash  of  sunlight  over  all  Europe.  It  was  then  he  read 
aloud  his  voluntary  royal  assurance,  and  laid  before 
the  estates  the  new  form  of  government,  which  was 
dutifully  adopted  with  a  three-fold  yea,  and  promptly 
subscribed.  Never  was  a  change  of  government  more 
successfully  accomplished,  or  more  quickly  acknowl- 
edged. Over  all  the  weary  realm,  the  cheeriest  echo 
flew  with  that  report,  and  Sprengtport  with  his  Finns 
arrived,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Finns,  "  the 
day  after  the  fair."  But  a  few  of  the  foreign  ministers 
let  angry  threatening  words  escape  them,  about  the 
duty  of  neighbors  to  "defend    the  liberty  of  Sweden." 


302  77MES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  that.  In  the  exulta- 
tion of  the  people,  the  "  time  of  liberty  "  was  borne  to 
its  grcive;  and  on  the  same  day  there  was  laid  away  in 
the  Catholic  church-yard  the  withered  heart  of  a  wo- 
man— a  heart  broken  among  strangers,  for  whom  she 
had  died  unknown. 

The  following  morning,  Paul  requested  audience. 
The  king  had  by  this  time  forgotten  him,  which  was 
pardonable  after  days  like  these. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  my  friend?  " 

"A  name,  your  majesty!  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  right.  I  promised  you  that.  But  are 
you  also  prepared  to  hear  that  name  with  the  self-com- 
mand which  your  country  and  your  king  have  a  right 
to  demand  of  you?  "  asked  the  king,  with  a  seriousness 
which  resembled  severity. 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  That  is  well.  I  can  now,  with  more  calmness  than 
I  could  a  few  days  ago,  confide  that  secret  to  you.  My 
throne  now  stands  firmly  rooted  in  the  nation's  love;  I 
would  like  to  see  who  would  venture  to  try  to  snatch 
it  from  me.  But  in  any  case  it  is  a  serious  matter. 
You  perhaps  remember  that  the  Duke  of  Choiseul,  two 
years  ago,  suddenly  fell  into  disfavor  with  the  king  of 
France  ?  " 

"  I  remember." 

"  Do  you  know  the  reason?" 

"  It  was  said  that  he  had  been  ruined  by  Countess 
Du  Barry." 

"  Of  course.  Choiseul  had  always  shown  his  con- 
tempt for  that  woman,  and  there  was  only  one  other 
person  in  France  who  dared  do  that.  You  know  who 
that  was  ? " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  Du  Barry  was  hated,  like  all  favorites;  but  a  hun- 
dred attempts  to  ruin  that  new  Pompadour  all  miscar- 
ried. Choiseul  and  the  rest  of  her  enemies  then  con- 
spired to  procure  a  fearful  rival  for  her  in  a  young  lady 


MORNING  LIGHT.  303 

of  birth,  a  beauty,  whose  extraordinary  genius  had  for 
some  time  already  aroused  the  attention  and  admira- 
tion of  all,  particularly  of  the  king  of  France.  Du 
Barry's  fall  was  thought  to  be  certain.  But  in  one  im- 
portant circumstance  the  conspirators  had  miscalcula- 
ted,— the  lady  in  question  refused  to  agree  to  their 
proposal." 

"  Ah,  your  majesty,  I  begin  to  understand." 
"  Yes,  my  lord,  that  woman  was  too  high-minded, 
too  noble,  to  be  willing,  under  such  circumstances,  to 
ascend  a  throne.  The  most  brilliant  propositions  were 
made  her,  she  was  offered  millions  if  she  would  give 
her  consent,  but  she  remained  inflexible,  and  went  to 
Sweden  pursued  by  Countess  Du  Barry's  fear  and  de- 
sire for  vengeance.  Then  she  one  day  saw  my  throne 
tremble,  my  kingdom  almost  precipitated  into  an 
abyss,  and  everything,  in  that  decisive  moment,  de- 
pended on  having  time  and  money.  Only  one  means 
of  obtaining  them  existed,  and  the  lady  in  question  re- 
solved, unknown  to  me,  to  avail  herself  of  it.  Too 
late,  I  found  that  she  had  employed,  for  my  rescue, 
those  millions  and  that  influence  which  stood  ready  as 
the  price  of  her  consent.  The  money  was  only  a  loan 
which  I  shall  repay;  but  you  perceive  that,  with  her 
character,  that  loan  signified  a  death-sentence  for  the 
borrower.  She  was  too  great,  too  virtuous,  to  wear  a 
life  of  shining  dishonor.  Instead  of  the  stained  throne 
of  France,  she  preferred  an  unknown  death  as  the 
savior  of  Sweden.  You  now  know  the  name,  my  lord. 
Be  revenged,  if  you  can,  on — Louis  XV,  King  of 
France." 


304  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    THIRD    TRIAL. 

ONE  fine  summer  day,  very  early  in  the  afternoon, 
Vera  Bertelskold  was  sitting  with  her  governess, 
Lady  Sjoblad,  on  a  grassy  seat  near  the  sliore  at  Falk- 
by,  reading  aloud  from  a  book  rich  in  wisdom.  It  was 
Count  Tessin's  letters  to  Gustaf  III  as  a  child, — truths 
and  moral  rules  clothed  in  the  most  graceful  and 
agreeable  language  that  ever  "  an  old  man  "  has  spoken 
to  "a  young  prince."  But  however  agreeable  that 
reading  was,  or  perhaps  ought  to  be,  the  book  did  not 
succeed  in  fixing  the  attention  of  the  vivacious  child. 
Vera's  playful,  happy  eyes  were  often  raised  to  her 
instructress  with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  ask  if 
that  was  not  enough,  and  when  she  received  no  answer 
her  glance  flew  furtively  around  on  the  blue  fiord  and 
the  green  islands,  to  the  ducks  plashing  out  upon  the 
bay,  or  to  the  white  sail  over  the  opposite  shore.  In 
Vera  there  was  always  a  resemblance  to  her  mother,  at 
that  time  when  Esther  Larsson  took  her  perilous  ride 
near  the  ramparts  of  Korsholm,  and  the  girl  was  like 
an  untamed  colt,  on  which  a  bridle  is  for  the  first  time 
laid,  and  which  tugs  impatiently  at  the  unaccustomed 
reins. 

Nature,  too,  was  so  lovely  that  she  seemed  to  throw 
a  green  shadow  on  the  page  of  the  book.  A  mild 
summer  warmth  lay  like  a  breath  of  love  over  all  that 
charming  landscape ;  a  gentle  breeze  from  the  south- 
east rippled  the  mirror-like  surface  of  the  water  ;  in  the 
graceful  swell  of  the  wavelets  played  the  Cyprinidie  ; 
the   forest  breathed  of  health,  and  in  the  grain-field 


MORNING  LIGHT.  305 

near  the  shore  the  harvesters  were  seen,  merrily  bind- 
ing the  richly  freighted  sheaves. 

The  countess,  when  she  selected  Lotten  Sj5blad  as 
the  instructress  of  her  child,  had  not  committed  an 
error.  She  was  a  quiet,  serious  young  lady,  between 
twenty  and  thirty  years  of  age,  not  handsome,  but  good 
and  sensible.  And  that  quiet,  kind,  calm  and  serious 
manner  of  the  poor  trouble-tried  girl  was  just  what 
drew  the  unruly  child  to  her,  and  curbed  with  a  single 
glance  the  willful  disposition  of  the  little  one.  Vera 
had  made  remarkable  progress,  and  yet  had  not  felt  the 
burden  of  a  fetter.  She  was  free  as  the  thrush  in  the 
branches  over  her  head. 

"  What  do  you  see  over  there  ?  "  asked  Lady  Sj8- 
blad  after  a  while,  when  she  perceived  that  her  pupil's 
short  patience  was  beginning  to  give  out. 

"  I  am  thinking  if  I  were  only  a  wild  duck,"  replied 
Vera. 

"  And  why  do  you  wish  to  be  a  wild  duck  ? " 

"  Then  I  would  swim  on  the  water,  and  then  down 
the  river  to  the  sea,  and  then  across  the  ocean,  around 
the  whole  world.  I  would  search  for  my  mamma  in 
every  land  and  on  every  sea." 

"  Then  you  greatly  long  to  see  your  mamma 
again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  so  much  !  "  said  Vera,  and  her  glistening  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Perhaps  your  mamma  will  soon  come  back  from 
her  long  journey ;  who  knows  ?  It  will  depend  on 
whether  she  is  pleased  with  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  ma  bonne  2'' 

"  You  see  I  often  have  letters  from  your  mamma. 
Every  week  she  writes  to  me  what  I  shall  teach  you, 
and  every  week  I  write  to  her  and  tell  her  if  you  have 
been  good  or  bad." 

"  I  will  not  be  bad  !     No,  I  will  not  be  bad  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  child,  stamping  in  the  soft  grass  with  her 
little,  untractable  foot. 
13*  U 


306  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

The  governess  smiled.  "  Why,  what  harm  has  that 
poor  honeysuckle  done  you,  that  you  are  tramping  on 
it  so  badly,  and  depriving  the  bee  of  its  honey?  But 
come,  you  may  play  duck  awhile  in  the  clear  water." 

They  went  to  the  pretty,  green-painted  bath-house 
at  the  water  side,  and  before  long  they  were  both  up 
to  the  arms  in  the  pure,  cooling  water.  Vera  plashed 
as  hard  as  she  could  with  hands  and  feet. 

"  But  that  is  not  a  duck,  that  is  a  frog,"  said  the 
governess  merrily. 

When  Vera  had  taken  lessons  awhile  in  the  art  of 
swimming,  she  asked  for  a  chance  to  plash  "just  a  lit- 
tle," after  her  teacher  had  gone  up  into  the  bath-house. 
It  was  so  indescribably  amusing.  The  water  sprinkled 
around  her,  reflecting  all  the  colors  of  a  dolphin,  while, 
laughing,  and  with  her  little  fingers  to  her  nose  and 
her  thumbs  in  her  ears,  she  imagined  herself  diving 
under  the  surface  of  the  water,  though  she  was  only 
dipping  her  nose  into  it.  She  looked  up,  triumphing 
over  her  skill,  and  became  aware  of  a  gentleman  quite 
near  her  on  the  shore.  Just  a  little  surprised,  she 
dived  back,  with  her  brown  curls  floating  on  the  water, 
but  soon  recognized  her  own  brother  Paul. 

"  Good-day,"  he  nodded. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  how  I  swim  ? "  cried  Vera, 
forgetting  everything  in  delight  over  her  new  accom- 
plishment. And,  with  her  hands  on  the  pebbles  be- 
neath, she  executed,  in  her  opinion,  such  remarkable 
feats  as  to  deserve  at  least  a  master's  diploma  in  that 
art,  in  case  such  things  existed  at  that  time. 

Paul  was  obliged  to  laugh.  That  was  the  first  time 
he  had  laughed  in  a  long  time,  and  it  was  like  sunshine 
after  a  long,  cloudy  day. 

After  the  toilets  were  made,  and  the  brother  and 
sister  had  embraced  each  other,  Paul  asked  after  his 
father  and  brother. 

"  About  an  hour  ago  they  rode  to  old  Flinta's  cot- 
tage, over  there  on  the  point,"  replied  Vera. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  307 

"  Was  not  Bernhard  once  harsh  to  old  Fhnta  ?  " 
said  Paul. 

"  That  was  some  time  ago,  Paul,"  said  Lady 
Sjoblad.    "You  will  no  longer  recognize  your  brother." 

"  Yes,"  piped  Vera,  "  that  was  the  time  Bernhard 
was  bad,  so  bad  that  I  could  have  bitten  him  ;  but 
now  I  kiss  him  every  day.  Guess  what  he  is  doing 
over  there  on  the  point  !  He  is  building  Flinta  a 
cottage  much  better  than  the  old  one." 

"  Can  we  not  row  thither  across  the  water  ?  " 

"  Certainly  we  can.  That  is,  if  ma  bonne  has  noth- 
ing against  it  ?  " 

"  You  were  in  the  water  too  long,  so  you  can  row 
to  get  warm  again,"  said  the  governess,  with  a  nod. 

"  Oh,  how  splendid  !  "  exclaimed  the  happy  child, 
and  in  her  joy  danced  away  a  new  cloud  from  her 
brother's  brow.  "  You  shall  see  how  I  can  row  !  And 
I  have  little  oars  of  my  own  !  You  will  let  me  row 
with  both  of  them,  will  you  not,  7na  bonne  ?  I  am  much 
stronger  now  than  I  was  last  summer,  when  I  rowed 
with  one  oar." 

"And  next  summer  you  will  row  with  three  !  "  mer- 
rily suggested  Paul.  "  Now  I  will  take  the  forward 
oars  for  my  portion,  you  row  with  the  others,  and  ma 
bonne  steer.     That  will  go  like  a  Spanish  quadrille." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  little  boat,  with 
the  three  excursionists,  darted  off  like  a  sea-gull  across 
the  gently  rippling  water,  and  steered  toward  the 
widow  Flinta's  cottage,  at  the  point  upon  the  opposite 
shore. 

Meantime  the  elder  counts  Bertelskold,  father  and 
son,  had  ridden  out  on  their  usual  afternoon  excursion, 
partly  to  see  to  the  harvesters,  and  partly  to  visit  the 
octogenarian  soldier-widow  and  her  newly-hewn  cot- 
tage. During  the  ride,  they  exchanged  many  words 
about  the  new  agricultural  improvements,  and  on  the 
establishment,  during  the  winter,  of  a  public  school  at 
Falkby. 


308  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

"  Father,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  "  tell  me  how  I  can 
make  amends  for  all  my  wrong-doing.  It  often  seems 
to  me  as  if  a  whole  life  would  be  insufficient  for  it. 
What  signify  all  my  repentance  and  resolutions,  if  they 
are  not  confirmed  by  manly  action  ?  I  want  to  be  a 
man,  father  ;  I  want,  henceforth,  to  be  a  nobleman  in 
its  widest  sense,  and  I  hope  by  that  means  not  to 
become  a  stranger  in  the  kingdom  of  God." 

"  And  have  you  not  a  whole  world  in  which  to 
work,  and  all  humanity  to  whom  you  can  repay  your 
debt  to  man  ?  Work  earnestly  for  your  time  and  your 
people,  and  your  wronged  mother  shall  bless  you,  your 
offended  God  shall  pardon  you,  not  for  your  work,  but 
for  the  work  of  him  who  bled  on  the  cross." 

When  they  had  arrived  at  that  part  of  the  highway 
where  a  narrow  footpath  turned  off  toward  the  left  to 
Flinta's  cot  by  the  shore,  they  were  met  by  a  carriage, 
whose  foaming  horses  were  being  rapidly  urged  for- 
ward by  the  whip.  In  the  carriage  sat  an  elderly 
gentleman,  who,  at  sight  of  the  two  horsemen,  ordered 
his  postillion  to  halt,  and  called  them  by  name.  It  was 
General  Pechlin. 

"  Right-about,  and  back  to  the  village,  my  lords  !  " 
exclaimed  the  general,  with  more  ardor  than  was  usually 
to  be  found  in  that  artful  and  deliberate  champion 
of  the  diet.  "  Arm  the  people  !  Ring  the  alarm  bells  ! 
Call  them  from  their  houses  into  the  field,  and  show 
that  you,  gentlemen,  are  warriors  and  patriots  !  " 

"  Is  your  excellence  joking,  or  is  the  enemy  in  the 
land  ? "  asked  father  and  son  at  once;  for  the  mails  had 
been  detained  in  Stockholm,  and  the  great  news  of  the 
revolution  had  not  yet  reached  this  remote  region. 

"What?"  again  exclamied  Pechlin.  "Do  you  not 
know,  gentlemen,  that  the  king  has  in  the  most  infamous 
manner  violated  the  form  of  government,  imprisoned 
the  patriots,  and  declared  his  power  absolute,  by  the 
aid  of  a  few  wretches  among  the  army  officers,  a  few 
plebeian  scoundrels,  and  Svenska  Botten  ? " 


MORNING  LIGHT.  309 

"We  have  not  heard  a  word  of  it." 

"  Rustic  innocence  !  The  devil  take  the  whole 
Holstein  league  !  I  come  directly  from  Stockholm, 
and  have  been  delayed  on  the  way  by  that  traitor, 
Baron  Hjerta,  who  wanted  to  arrest  me;  but  I  showed 
him  the  king's  orders.  Arm  your  house,  I  say,  or  it  is 
all  over  with  liberty !  Fear  nothing.  I  shall  place 
myself  at  the  head  of  the  Jonkoping  regiment,  we  will 
call  up  the  militia,  and  march  to  Stockholm  to  mas- 
sacre those  dogs  and  their  actor  on  the  throne.  In 
three  days  we  shall  set  all  Sweden  in  flames  !  " 

"  But,  your  excellence,  we  must  get  more  complete 
information  before  we  proceed  to  such  extremities. 
The  government  of  the  estates  has  really  been  as 
wretched  as  possible,"  objected  Count  Bernard. 

The  general  caught  fire.  "  What  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"You  argue  against  liberty,  my  lord  ?  Have  the  good- 
ness to  take  care  of  your  head.  Are  you  noblemen, 
my  lords,  and  do  not  understand  that  the  king  wants 
to  govern  with  the  assistance  of  the  plebeian  rabble 
which  is  bought  with  a  few  plats?  Of  course  my 
lords  have  their  sympathies.  You  have  familiarized 
yourself  with  the  mob.  You  have  made  the  family 
illustrious  with  butter-dealers'  receipts,  and  crowned 
the  tar-barrel  with  the  arms  of  a  count.  But  I  notify 
you,  my  lords,  that  we  are  going  to  vote  such  nobility 
out  of  the  palace  of  nobles." 

"  Your  excellence  !  "  passionately  burst  out  Count 
Charles  Victor  Bertelskuld.  But  he  was  interrupted  by 
his  son. 

"  Allow  me  to  answer  him,  father,"  said  Count 
Bernhard,  "since  I  have  hitherto  had  the  honor  of 
being  considered  of  full-blooded  race.  Over  there  our 
harvesters  are  working.  I  declare  to  your  excellence 
that  we  shall  not  take  a  single  man  from  his  work 
before  we  know  with  certainty  whether  his  majesty  has 
really  trampled  our  liberty  under  foot.  And  as  to 
those  insulting  words  which  your  excellence  has  been 


310  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

pleased  to  utter  about  our  family  connections,  I  repel 
them  with  disdain.  Among  the  untitled  classes  exists 
quite  as  much  honor  as  in  the  nobility,  and,  as  a  proof 
of  it,  I  declare  in  the  presence  of  your  excellence  and 
of  the  whole  world  that  we  have  the  honor  of  numbering 
in  our  family  a  person  of  untitled  birth,  with  such 
noble  and  elevated  principles  that  any  prince  or  noble- 
man ought  to  consider  himself  honored  by  such  a 
connection." 

"  Drive  on  ! "  shrieked  the  general  in  wrath,  and 
without  deigning  to  give  the  defender  of  "  the  mob  " 
even  a  nod  of  farewell. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  son  !  "  said  Count  Charles 
Victor,  with  emotion. 

"Do  not  thank  me,  father,"  replied  Count  Bern- 
hard.  "  I  have  a  great  wrong  to  retrieve,  and  I  want 
to  retrieve  it." 

Thoughtful  and  agitated  by  the  great  news,  they 
continued  the  ride  to  the  shore.  They  did  not  observe 
that  a  peasant-woman,  who,  concealed  by  a  pine  near 
the  roadside,  had  heard  their  conversation  with  the 
general,  was  following  them  thither. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

AT     FLINTA's   cottage. 

THE  beautiful  craggy  point  where  the  widow 
Flinta's  cottage  stood  among  the  pines,  lay  half 
covered  with  chips,  and  from  the  new  cottage,  which 
was  to  be  finished  by  autumn,  the  sound  of  the  carpen- 
ters' axes  and  saws  was  heard.  But  Flinta  still  lived 
in  her  dilapidated  hut  ;  she  did  not  like  to  leave  it. 
"When  I  move,"  said  she,  "I  shall  move  farther 
away." 


MORNING  LIGHT.  311 

She  was  now  sitting  on  the  bench  by  the  steps, 
spinning  woolen  yarn  for  the  winter,  and  softly  hum- 
ming a  psalm  to  herself.  At  the  shore  stood  her  grand- 
son, Martin,  a  fisher-boy  of  twenty  years,  whistling 
a  merry  tune  while  he  tarred  an  over-turned  boat. 
The  spinning-wheel,  the  psalm,  the  whistled  tune,  the 
hum  of  insects,  the  whispering  of  the  wind  in  the 
pines,  and  the  monotonous  murmur  of  the  waves 
against  the  shore,  all  these  were  voices  from  animate 
nature,  and  set  to  music  the  beauty  of  evening,  which 
extended  in  limpid  light  over  the  sunny  landscape. 

Then  the  old  woman  ceased  her  spinning,  and, 
listening  awhile  to  something  which  no  one  else  heard, 
asked  her  grandson  : 

"  Has  she  returned  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Go  and  see  where  she  has  gone.  There  is  some- 
thing bad  in  the  forest." 

"  What  is  it,  grandmother?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  But  it  is  something  bad,  and  she 
is  in  danger.     I  know  it,  for  certain." 

"  Pshaw,  it  is  broad  daylight!  " 

"  Go,  I  say.  The  angel  of  God  tells  me  that  you 
ought  to  go." 

Reluctantly  the  boy  left  his  work,  muttering  some- 
thing about  the  many  foolish  notions  that  get  into  old 
people  in  their  second  childhood.  But.  accustomed  to 
obeying,  he  went  whistling  down  the  narrow  footpath 
which  led  to  the  highway. 

When  he  had  thus  walked  awhile  without  perceiving 
anything  strange,  he  unexpectedly  encountered  a  giant, 
who  seemed  to  be  provided  with  two  good-sized 
humps,  one  in  front  and  the  other  on  his  shoulders. 
Martin  was  not  one  of  the  most  timid,  but  at  this  sight 
he  ceased  whistling,  and  looked  around  for  a  retreat. 

Meantime  the  giant  came  nearer,  and  was  found  to 
be  an  uncommonly  large,  athletic  man,  who  was  uncon- 
cernedly carrying  in   front  of  him,  on   his  brea.st,  a 


31-.>  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

juggler's  cabinet  containing  a  monkey,  and  on  his 
slioulders  a  thin,  swarthy  fellow,  in  a  curious  costume, 
with  a  kind  of  capote  of  lynx-skin  half  drawn  down 
over  his  ears. 

"  Halloa,  peasant!  "  shouted  the  giant  to  Martin. 
"  Is  there  a  wigwam  here  ?  I  have  found  a  carcass  by 
the  roadside." 

But  Martin,  who  had  found  time  to  take  a  closer 
look  at  the  man,  with  the  appendages,  replied,  with  an 
outcrj'^,  half  amazement  and  half  terror: 

"  Why!     If  it  isn't  black  Joseph!  " 

At  these  words,  the  thin,  swarthy  man  was  seen  to 
give  a  start;  then  he  wrenched  himself  loose  from  the 
giant's  neck,  slid  down  to  the  ground,  and  glided  off 
like  a  snake  between  the  bushes.  It  was  all  done  in  a 
twinkling.  The  giant  looked  around  bewildered,  and 
scratching  his  head,  said,  ^^ Kas  perkeleJ" 

And  then  Paul  Bertelskold's  old  friend  Leo  flung 
the  juggler's  cabinet,  with  the  monkey,  contemptuously 
from  him.  But  Martin,  without  much  reflection,  took 
to  his  heels  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive. 

When  he  had  gone  a  little  distance  into  the  forest, 
he  saw  black  Jose  crouched  behind  a  stone,  and  peer- 
ing toward  the  foot-path.  The  Spaniard,  who  in  this 
position  bore  an  illusive  likeness  to  a  lurking  lynx,  was 
disengaging  a  long  knife  from  his  belt.  He  was  no- 
torious for  an  extraordinary  dexterity  in  throwing  that 
dangerous  weapon  long  distances  without  ever  missing 
his  mark. 

On  the  footpath,  a  woman  in  peasant  garb  was 
approaching  with  rapid  step.  She  suspected  no  dan- 
ger; she  merely  had  her  reasons  for  hurrying  to  Flinta's 
cottage. 

Then  black  Jose  half  rose,  his  eyes  glittering  with 
revenge,  and  aimed  at  the  woman  a  deadly  throw. 
Martin  was  about  to  run  to  him,  but  was  unexpectedly 
superseded.  There  was  the  report  of  a  shot  about 
fifty  paces  away,  a  light  smoke  rose  above  the  willov; 


MORNING  LIGHT.  313 

bushes,  and  the  Spaniard  tumbled  across  the  stone, 
weltering  in  his  own  blood.  It  was  evident  that  some 
one  had  taken  him  for  that  lynx  which  both  externally 
and  internally  he  so  singularly  resembled. 

"What  was  that?"  said  the  woman  to  Martin. 

"  It  was  black  Joseph,  who  was  trying  to  kill  your 
grace,"  replied  Martin,  with  a  thump  of  his  honest 
fisher  heart. 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  noble  brow  of  the  peasant 
woman,  but  she  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  as  to 
what  she  ought  to  do. 

"Take  me  to  him!  "  said  she. 

Martin  conducted  her  to  the  fallen  assassin,  who 
was  lying  behind  the  stone.  He  was  still  breathing. 
The  ball  had  passed  through  his  right  shoulder. 

"  If  the  ball  can  be  gotten  out  he  can  be  saved," 
said  the  woman,  after  she  had  with  experienced  hand 
examined  the  wound  and  torn  to  pieces  a  fine  hand- 
kerchief for  the  first  dressing  of  the  wound.  "Where 
shall  we  get  help  to  carry  him  to  the  village  ? " 

"  I  will  call  that  tall  slow-poke  over  there,"  said 
Martin,  pointing  to  Leo,  who  remained  standing  near 
the  footpath,  irresolute  as  to  whether  or  not  he  would 
be  justified  in  leaving  the  poor  monkey  alone  in  the 
forest  to  die  of  hunger. 

But  before  Leo  reached  the  spot,  two  horsemen 
had  already  approached  along  the  foot-path,  and  one 
of  them,  with  the  discharged  Spanish  hunting-piece  on 
his  shoulder,  had  dismounted  to  find  the  supposed 
game  which  had  fallen  by  his  ball.  It  was  Count  Bern- 
hard  Bertelskold. 

"  Mora  from  Ostanlid!  And  Jose!  What  does  this 
mean  ? "  he  exclaimed,  in  amazement,  when  he  found 
the  peasant  woman  near  the  stone,  engaged  in  caring 
for  the  wounded  man. 

"  I  wanted  to  avenge  you  and  myself,  seilor !"  said 
the  Spaniard,  in  a  weak  voice.  "  She  and  your  brother 
14 


3U  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

are  to  blame  for  it  all.  Caramba!  I  will  pay  them  yet, 
if  I  live!" 

"  You  shall  live,  Jose,  not  to  be  revenged,  but  to 
repent  and  to  pray!"  whispered  the  woman,  seriously. 

"  Was  I  not  on  your  account  driven  away  from  my 
situation?"  muttered  the  wounded  man. 

"  Yes.  And  for  that  you  wanted  to  kill  me  and  my 
son.  But  we  too  shall  be  revenged.  We  will  heal 
your  wound." 

Before  long  a  soft  litter  of  branches  had  been  pre- 
pared, and  on  this  the  Spaniard  was  borne  to  the  vil- 
lage by  Leo  and  Martin. 

"  Be  kind  enough,  gentlemen,  to  tell  that  woman  to 
take  care  of  the  monkey!"  said  Leo,  pointing  to  the 
peasant  woman.  He  could  not  prevail  upon  himself 
to  leave  his  grinning  protege  defenceless  in  the  forest. 

Without  uttering  a  word.  Count  Bernhard  mounted 
his  horse,  and  step  by  step,  often  pausing  and  thought- 
ful, rode  by  his  father's  side,  down  toward  the  shore. 

"  Was  not  that  Mora  from  Ostanlid  ? "  inquired  the 
father. 

"Yes,"  replied  Count  Bernhard. 

Meantime  the  peasant  woman  had  taken  a  shorter 
path  across  the  mountain,  and  arrived  before  them  at 
the  cottage.  Old  Flinta  was  still  sitting  on  her  bench 
by  the  steps.  VVHiile  the  spinning-wheel  was  humming, 
the  waves  glittering,  the  swallows  darting  hither  and 
thither,  and  the  sunshine  falling  like  silver  on  the  fiord, 
she  heard  the  footstep  of  the  comer. 

"  Are  you  safe  and  sound  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  peasant  woman,  standing  humbly 
as  a  penitent  in  the  presence  of  that  poor  creature  in 
her  pious  old  age. 

"Thank  God!  There  is  something  which  tells  me 
that  your  hardest  trial  in  this  life  is  approaching  its 
close." 

"Yes,  mother.     And  yet  I  tremble." 

"  Call  me  mother  no  more,  for  the  time  is  come 


MORNING  LIGHT.  315 

when  those  to  whom  you  belong  ought  to  get  you 
back.  Why  do  you  tremble  ?  Has  not  the  blessing  of 
God  followed  you  in  prosperity  and  adversity?" 

"Always!     Always,  mother!  " 

"  Has  not  the  very  hardest  heart  on  earth,  which 
otherwise  would  perhaps  never  have  been  softened, 
been  won  to  God  and  man  by  your  flight? " 

"  Oh,  not  by  me!  " 

"  No,  but  by  the  power  of  God.  And  has  not  that 
man  whom  God  appointed  your  defender,  but  who  for- 
got his  most  sacred  duty,  been  awakened  to  reflection 
by  losing  you,  and  does  he  not  love  you  now  more  than 
ever  before  ? " 

"  I  think  so,  yes.     But  not  by  me!  " 

"  No,  once  more  and  always  by  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  which  guided  your  feet." 

"  That  is  true." 

"And  have  you  not  watched  over  your  younger 
son  better,  and  more  effectively,  than  you  could  have 
done  if  you  had  remained  at  home?" 

"  Perhaps.     I  do  not  know." 

"  And  have  you  not,  like  an  invisible  angel,  continu- 
ally watched  over  your  youngest  child,  who  for  awhile 
needed  the  care  of  a  stranger,  because  her  disposition 
was  too  much  like  your  own?" 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right." 

"And  has  not  God  Almighty  now,  by  the  test  of 
affliction,  purified  you  all,  purified  yourself,  and  filled 
up  that  deep  chasm  which  once  threatened  to  bury 
your  husband's  whole  family  in  mutual  dissension  ? " 

"  I  hope  so  !  " 

"  Well,  why  then  do  you  tremble  ?  Why  do  you 
still  delay  praising  God  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  a  poor,  sinful  woman,  and  am  not 
pure  before  his  holy  face.  Oh,  mother,  I  once  de- 
ceived !  " 

"  You  deceived  ?     That  is  impossible  !  " 

"  It  was  one  time  in  Stockholm.     I  wanted  to  try 


316  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

my  step-son,  and  he  stood  the  test.  But,  thought  I, 
the  human  heart  is  weak,  and  he  must  stand  still  more 
tests.  And,  as  it  could  not  take  place  otherwise,  I  al- 
tered the  appearance  of  my  face,  and  did  not  make 
myself  known.  Afterwards  I  bitterly  repented  it.  I 
do  not  remember  that  I  ever  lied,  except  that  one  time, 
in  my  whole  life." 

"  Is  it  so  ? "  said  the  old  woman  gently  ;  "  then  be 
of  good  heart,  and  learn  in  that  also  to  recognize  God's 
infinite  grace.  Behold,  you  have  renounced  more  than 
most  women,  you  have  voluntarily  separated  yourself 
from  the  dearest  you  have  on  earth  ;  alone,  forsaken, 
reviled,  you  have  suffered,  and  you  have  been  rewarded 
with  ingratitude,  although,  wherever  you  have  been, 
you  have  returned  good  for  evil.  But  the  Lord  saw 
that  by  such  means  you  might  become  self-righteous, 
and  proud  of  your  merit  and  he  therefore  sent  you 
that  temptation  into  which  you  fell.  You  thought 
yourself  wiser  and  stronger  than  you  were,  and  the 
Lord  punished  you  with  a  sin." 

"  That  is  true.  I  feel  that  I  needed  it.  And  even 
at  this  moment,  the  proud,  willful  spirit  of  my  youth, 
which  I  have  fought  and  fought  my  whole  life  long, 
dwells  within  me.  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  come  back 
to  that  house  from  which  I  have  been  driven,  to  come 
uncalled, — though  it  contains  everything  dear  to  me  in 
this  life.  So  sinful,  so  haughty  you  see  I  am  still,  in 
the  depth  of  my  heart !  " 

"  Let  me  attend  to  that  matter,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"Go  into  my  cottage.  I  hear  the  tramp  of  horses' 
hoofs  on  the  ground,  and  they  bring  you  your  days  of 
peace." 


MORNING   LIGHT.  31 7 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

AN     EVENING    IN    ROSY    CLOUDS. 

THE  two  gentlemen  dismounted  from  their  horses, 
and  looked  over  the  new  cottage.  Both  were 
silent  and  serious, — kingdoms  and  hearts  were  in  agi- 
tation. 

When  they  had  inspected  the  work,  they  went,  as 
was  their  custom  almost  every  day,  to  talk  awhile  with 
the  old  woman.  It  will  be  remembered  that  she  was 
the  widow  of  one  of  those  brave  Carolins,  almost  all  of 
whom  had  now  disappeared  from  the  earth.  She  had 
seen  and  known  Major  Gosta  Bertelskold,  the  father 
and  grandfather  of  the  present  counts.  She  still  remem- 
bered the  twelfth  Charles,  and  she  knew  and  could  talk 
about  a  great  many  strange  exploits  which  had  by  this 
time  died  out  of  the  memory  of  posterity.  On  her 
whitening  hair  lay  the  afterglow  of  a  past  epoch. 
What  a  deep  impression  must  the  mighty  struggles, 
lofty  heroism,  and  unprecedented  trials  of  that  Caro- 
linian time  have  left  behind  them,  when  the  trace  of  it 
was  still  discernible,  so  long  afterward,  in  a  rare  eleva- 
tion of  mind  even  in  the  humble  who  had  lived  at  that 
period  !  That  soldier  widow  was  only  a  very  old  and 
poor  woman  from  the  common  people,  without  any 
knowledge  except  the  living  Word  of  God  in  her  heart 
and  the  memory  of  past  days  on  her  lips  ;  but  about  her 
there  was  something  great  and  venerable,  which  ex- 
ceeded the  standard  of  the  present  day,  and,  as  it  were, 
cast  over  the  century  "  the  shadow  of  a  name." 

The  two  counts  Bertelskold,  who  were  themselves 
of  Carolinian  stock,  used  therefore  to  like  to  spend  an 
hour  with  the  soldier-widow  Flinta.     Count  Bernhard 


318  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

had  formed  a  friendship  for  her  which  resembled  rev- 
erence, and  it  was  touching  to  see  with  what  care  he 
sought  to  efface  from  her  mind  the  memory  of  former 
acts  of  injustice.  He  had  been  the  most  zealous  in 
procuring  for  the  old  woman  a  more  comfortable  dwell- 
ing. He  had  obtained  for  her  a  pension  of  fourteen 
plats  a  year,  which  was  a  great  deal  for  a  soldier's 
widow.  He  had  furnished  her  with  new  spinning- 
cards  and  wheel,  a  patch  of  ground  for  the  culture  of 
flax,  and  six  fine  sheep,  besides  the  red-and-white  cow, 
which  was  the  old  woman's  darling.  And  a  few  weeks 
later,  Martin  had  received  from  him  the  most  beau- 
tiful net  for  fishing,  by  which  the  inhabitants  of  the 
hut  had  now  become  as  comfortable  and  indepen- 
dent as  they  had  formerly  been  poor  and  needy. 

The  two  counts  now  sat  down  as  usual  on  the  steps, 
and,  after  they  had  exchanged  a  few  words  about  the 
cottage  and  the  fish,  the  elder  count  began  to  talk 
about  the  great  news  from  Stockholm,  and  how  the 
king  had  assumed  the  government.  Old  Flinta  shook 
her  white  head,  and  said: 

"  God  preserve  the  king.  That  is  the  prayer  that 
morning  and  evening  I  heard  offered  when  a  child.  I 
am  not  versed  in  the  new  times,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
concord  in  the  house  makes  a  settled  dwelling.  For  it 
is  in  love  and  by  love  that  we  must  live.  God  rewards 
those  who  have  a  faithful  heart." 

The  gentlemen  did  not  reply.  Their  hearts  were 
touched. 

"  And  therefore  I  say,  God  reward  the  countess, 
your  grace's  wife,  for  she  certainly  carries  a  faithful 
heart,"  continued  the  old  woman,  without  letting  go 
the  thread.  "I  wonder  where  she  can  be,  and  when 
she  will  come  back  ? " 

"  There  is  a  boat  pushing  out  from  Falkby  landing," 
said  the  elder  count,  as  he  took  a  spy-glass  out  of  his 
pocket;  but  he  could  see  nothing,  for  there  was  some- 
thing moist  either  on  the  glass  or  in  his  eye. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  319 

'*  What  do  you  know  about  the  countess  ?  "  asked 
Count  Bernhard,  who  divined  something  beneath  those 
words  uttered  as  though  in  passing.  "  You  know  some- 
thing, my  good  woman,  and  it  is  not  right  that  you 
should  keep  it  from  us  now." 

"  I  know  that  much  is  different  now  from  what  it 
was  wlien  her  grace  went  away,"  cahnly  replied  the  old 
woman,  as  she  continued  her  spinning.  "But  I  also 
know  that  she  did  not  go  away  willingly  or  needlessly. 
You  see  there  is  something  in  a  woman's  heart  which 
men  do  not  understand.  When  men  have  anything  on 
their  minds,  they  rush  about,  and  are  in  a  condition  to 
uproot  the  pillars  of  the  earth,  if  it  lay  in  their  power. 
But  when  a  good  woman  has  a  heart  sorrow,  she  goes 
away  to  bleed  in  silence.  It  happened  when  I  was 
young,  that  Peter  Stal,  who  stood  next  to  my  Flinta  in 
the  ranks,  used  to  say  to  his  wife,  '  I  could  have  done 
better  than  to  marry  you,  Karin,' — for  you  see  his 
father  had  been  a  sergeant,  but  Karin  was  from  a 
Falkby  cottage.  It  was  not  so  very  badly  intended, 
but  Karin  was  one  of  the  sort  that  would  tolerate  it 
nineteen  or  twenty  times,  and  no  more.  When  she 
heard  the  same  thing  for  the  twenty-first  time,  she  went 
away  and  asked  for  a  bill  of  divorce.  And  the  whole 
parish  was  in  amazement,  for  all  knew  that  Karin  was 
sensible  and  humble,  and  submissive  to  her  husband  in 
everything  except  honor.  But  now  the  question  is 
whether  she  did  right  or  wrong." 

"  She  did  right,"  said  Count  Bernhard,  in  a  firm 
voice. 

"  I  fear  she  did  what  a  woman  ought  to  do,"  sor- 
rowfully added  the  father. 

"  But  what  do  you  suppose  Peter  Stal  did,  your 
grace,  when  he  found  out  about  it  ?"  continued  the  old 
woman.  "  He  went  to  the  minister  one  Sunday  at  the 
close  of  service,  when  the  most  of  the  people  were  still  in 
the  church,  and  Karin  with  them,  and  then  he  said,  so 
loudly  that  all  heard  it,  '  I  have  a  wife  too  good  for  me, 


3t>0  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

and  if  I  had  married  the  queen's  maid  of  honor  I  could 
never  have  had  so  fine  a  wife  as  Karin.  I  am  agreed 
as  to  the  divorce,  because  I  am  not  worthy  of  her.'  " 

"And  what  did  Karin  reply  ?  "  asked  both  the  counts 
at  once. 

"Yes,  what  did  she  reply?"  continued  the  old 
woman  after  a  little  pause,  during  which  the  peasant- 
woman,  who  inside  the  cottage  had  heard  the  conver- 
sation through  the  open  window,  had  time,  unobserved 
by  the  gentlemen,  to  step  out,  and  silently  draw  near 
behind  them.  "  Yes,  what  did  she  answer  them  ?  She 
answered  by  putting  her  arms  lovingly  around  the  neck 
of  her  husband     .     .     .     ." 

At  these  words.  Count  Charles  Victor  Bertelskold 
felt  two  soft  arms  close  around  his  neck,  and  tears, 
warm  as  the  gentlest  summer  rain,  drop  upon  his 
face. 

This  was  so  unexpected,  so  surprising,  that  none  of 
the  four  were  able  for  some  time  to  utter  a  word.  The 
spinning-wheel  ceased  its  humming,  the  insects  their 
buzzing,  the  birds  their  twittering.  Soft  as  the  em- 
brace of  love  did  the  wavelets  seem  to  glide  toward  the 
green  shores,  and  even  the  light  clouds  of  the  firma- 
ment seemed,  glowing  with  tenderness,  to  reflect  one  of 
the  most  blessed  moments  in  fleeting  human  life — the 
moment  when  two  hearts,  which  had  been  separated  by 
sin  and  sorrow,  met  again,  never  more  to  cease  to  beat 
for  each  other. 

The  first  who  broke  the  silence,  the  first  who,  with- 
out separating,  set  free  that  indissoluble  embrace,  was 
the  old  octogenarian,  who  had  now  paid  her  debt,  also, 
for  all  favors  shown  her.  She  raised  her  trembling 
hands  toward  heaven,  and  offered  an  ardent,  unspoken 
prayer,  one  of  those  thanksgivings  without  words,  but 
which  are  heard  to  the  very  mansions  of  the  blessed, 
and  which  was  shared  by  all  present.  Afterward,  when 
the  greatest  of  all  duties  was  fulfilled,  and  the  burning 
gratitude  of  four  hearts  was  sent  to  the  throne  of  the 


MORNING  LIGHT,  321 

Most  High,  then  the  old  woman  wiped  the  tears  from 
her  withered  cheeks,  and  said,  with  a  gentle  and  pious 
smile: 

"  Well,  what  did  Karin  answer  her  husband  at 
church?" 

"  She  replied,"  said  Countess  Esther,  who  had  now 
thrown  the  peasant-woman's  concealing  head-cloth  off 
from  her  forehead,  disclosing  a  pair  of  large,  glisten- 
ing, genuine  pearls  beneath  the  dark  eye-lashes, — "  she 
replied,  '  Behold  the  hand  of  God  is  in  mercy  over  us, 
unworthy  creatures  !  We  all  stand  before  his  tribunal 
with  a  debt  on  our  conscience.  How  could  we  refrain 
from  glorifying  his  name  by  pardoning  each  other  ? 
And  so,  as  I  promise  you  in  his  presence  never  more 
with  the  shadow  of  a  thought  to  offend  your  love,  I 
also  beg  you  to  pardon  all  the  sorrow  I  have  caused 
you,  and  all  the  lonely  hours  you  have  missed  your 
wife — your  wife  who  had  sworn  never  to  forsake  you; 
and,  believe  me,  there  was  a  feeling  in  my  heart  as 
though  I  had  lost  everything  on  earth,  when  I  no  longer 
had  you  !  But  now  I  have  you  again,  now  I  shall 
never  again  forsake  you;  I  should  no  more  be  able  to 
bear  such  a  sorrow.  And  therefore  I  am  the  one  who 
begs  to  be  allowed  to  come  back  to  you.  Will  you  grant 
me  such  a  great  and  undeserved  joy  ? '  " 

"  That  is  right,  that  is  just  what  Karin  said,"  re- 
joined the  old  woman  at  the  spinning-wheel.  "And 
upon  that  her  husband  answered     .     .     .     ." 

"  Her  husband  answered,"  interposed  Count  Charles 
Victor  Bertelskold,  "  that  in  the  presence  of  God  and 
man  he  acknowledged  himself  unworthy  such  a  woman. 
And  do  you  remember,"  said  he,  "that  one  day,  twenty 
years  ago,  you  predicted  all  this  ?  But  I,  in  my  blind 
love,  did  not  understand  you.  I  knew  neither  the  preju- 
dices of  mankind  nor  the  weakness  of  myself.  I 
believed  myself  strong,  and  therefore  God  sent  me  this 
trial.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  know  you  and  myself. 
I  shall  now  no  longer  be  self-confident;  and  yet,  my 
V 


322  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

Esther,  and  yet  we  shall  together  have  power  to  con- 
quer the  world  !  " 

"And  I,  my  mother  !  How  shall  I  venture  to  lift 
my  eyes  to  you  ? "  said  Count  Bernhard,  in  an  alto- 
gether different  tone  from  that  which  a  year  ago  he  had 
used  at  this  very  same  place. 

Instead  of  answering  him,  Countess  Esther  threw 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissed  him,  as  a  mother 
kisses  her  loved  and  lost  son  when  he  is  found  again, 
"  If  I  have  ever  felt  my  littleness  and  God's  power," 
said  she,  "  it  has  been  when  I  have  seen  his  work  in  you. 
Do  you  know,  Bernhard,  that  we  love  the  very  most 
that  for  which  we  have  suffered  most  ?  I  saw  you  turn 
about  on  that  path  where  so  few  return,  and  where 
everything  seemed  to  unite  to  separate  you  from  us.  I 
saw  you  embrace  your  brother  whom  you  once  hated, — 
and  could  I  help  loving  you  ?  I  knew  of  your  second 
trial,  amid  the  manifestations  of  the  infidelity  of  the 
day;  you  remained  strong  in  your  faith, — and  should  I 
not  thank  God  for  you  ?  Lastly,  quite  recently,  I  heard 
you  reviled  and  threatened  for  my  sake,  and  you  took 
up  my  defence, — and  do  you  still  think  that  you  are 
not  dear  to  me  ?  If  you  knew  how  it  felt  to  have 
regained  a  son  such  as  you,  believe  me,  you  would  envy 
me,  for  to-day  I  clearly  see  a  blessing  on  us  all  !  " 

While  she  was  still  speaking,  the  boat  approached, 
with  the  three  who  had  met  at  Falkby  bathing-house. 
No  one  would  have  thought  of  Vera,  if  old  Flinta  had 
not  pulled  the  countess's  dress,  and,  with  a  delicacy  of 
feeling  which  only  a  woman  understands,  had  whispered 
to  her,  "  Go  into  the  house  !  " 

The  countess  went  in. 

An  instant  later  the  boat  landed.  Paul  fell  into  his 
father's  arms,  and  cordially  pressed  the  hand  of  his 
brother,  without  heeding  their  agitated  feelings.  But 
one  who  did  observe  it  immediately  was  Vera.  She 
looked  at  them  with  a  troubled  face,  and  almost  with 
bewilderment. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  323 

"Well,"  said  old  Flinta,  "  will  not  the  little  lady  call 
on  her  good  friend  there  in  the  cottage  ?  " 

The  old  woman  had  a  cat  which  had  always  enticed 
Vera  to  the  pine-covered  point,  and  a  very  pretty  little 
kitten  it  was.  That  was  what  Vera,  in  her  embarrass- 
ment, now  went  to  caress.  But  when  she  went  into  the 
cottage,  she  saw  a  peasant  woman  sitting  at  the  win- 
dow, looking  at  her  without  saying  a  word. 

Vera  looked  at  her,  and  blushed  to  the  tips  of  her 
ears, — then  looked  away  in  the  belief  that  she  had  been 
mistaken, — then  looked  again  at  the  stranger,  and  grew 
all  the  redder  and  more  amazed.  She  did  not  venture 
to  take  a  step,  but  stood  as  though  nailed  fast  to  the 
threshold. 

Then  the  arms  of  the  strange  woman  slowly  ex- 
tended. She  did  not  speak  a  word,  she  did  not  change 
a  feature,  she  did  not  stir  from  her  place, — she  only 
stretched  forth  her  open  arms. 

"  Mamma  !  "  stammered  Vera,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  Vera  !  "  whispered  the  stranger,  in  a  tone  just  as 
low. 

And  in  a  moment  the  daughter  lay  in  the  loving 
embrace  of  her  mother, — and  when  those  two  met,  no 
eye  beheld  them  save  the  eye  of  Him  who  is 
omniscient. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

THE  MORNING  OF  THE  REALM. 

IN  the  latter  part  of  August,  the  sun  rises  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  immediately  after  four 
dawn  begins.  On  one  such  morning,  both  Bernhard 
and  Paul  Bertelskold  were  up  before  the  sun.  There 
was  something  to  do  at  Falkby. 

In  the  first  young  beauty  of  the  lovely  morning. 


324  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

the  landscape  lay  transfigured.  How  fresh,  how  cool 
it  was  !  The  air  was  as  pure  as  if  it  had  flowed  out  of 
eternal  fountains  of  health,  and  so  transparent  that  the 
wings  of  the  loon  could  be  distinguished  far  in  the  blue 
ether.  The  dew  lay,  in  large,  bright  drops,  so  thickly 
on  the  grass  that  the  yard  and  park  was  strewed  with 
twinkling  diamonds.  Over  the  shore  still  hung  a  light 
veil  of  the  cool  night-vapor,  above  which  the  airy  foliage 
of  the  birch-trees  and  the  dark  verdure  of  the  pines 
were  outlined  against  the  rosy  morning  sky.  One 
could  count  every  leaf,  every  needle,  and  all  were  sil- 
very and  shining,  as  though  tearful  with  joy  and  beauty. 

To  those  who  are  not  accustomed  to  leaving  their 
beds  before  sunrise,  it  is  something  rare  to  see  the 
shadows  of  trees  and  buildings  fall  far  toward  the  west, 
in  the  reflection  of  the  crimson  clouds  of  the  east.  The 
long  shadows  ordinarily  resemble  evening  thoughts, 
and  portend  the  night  ;  but  when  they  announce  a 
vanishing  darkness,  a  rising  day,  with  what  a  totally 
different  language  do  they  then  speak  to  the  eye  !  Paul 
distinctly  felt  the  night  in  his  soul  begin  to  brighten, 
and  the  morning  of  the  new  times  begin  to  dawn  be- 
fore his  vision. 

In  the  park,  a  dozen  young  peasant  boys  and  girls 
from  the  village  had  already  for  several  hours  been 
busily  engaged  with  INIay-poles,  leaf-decorations,  and 
other  mysterious  things,  near  a  new  building  over  by 
the  gate.  The  same  summer-house  which,  the  previ- 
ous summer,  had  been  garlanded  for  the  count's  birth- 
day, was  again  the  center  of  a  coming  festivity;  and 
the  prime  mover  of  all  this  important  preparation  was 
honest  old  gardener  Bergflygt,  who,  with  all  his  good 
qualities,  being  somewhat  slow  to  forgive,  could  not 
hitherto  be  prevailed  on  to  forget  the  injustice  he  had 
suffered,  but  when  he  had  found  that  his  former  mis- 
tress had  returned  from  her  long  journey,  had  finally 
yielded.  He  worked  now  as  though,  by  his  redoubled 
zeal,  he  wished  to  make  amends  for  his  obstinacy;  and 


MORNING  LIGHT.  325 

he  was  assisted,  with  clumsy  but  faithful  efforts,  by  an 
athletic  figure,  who  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow  was  doing 
work  enough  for  four  others. 

"  Well,  Leo,"  said  Paul,  "  you  did  not  flourish  a 
great  while  in  Stockholm  !  " 

"  It  is  easy  to  talk  about  flourishing  when  one  has 
nothing  to  eat." 

"  But  why  did  you  come  to  Sweden  ? " 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  got  sent  back  the  seventh  time 
in  theological  examination.  The  flies  had  specked 
Gadolin's  codex,  till  a  horse  could  not  read  such  He- 
brew. So  I  thought,  '  Olkoon!  I  will  join  the  king's 
dragoons.'  " 

"  And  that  was  why  you  huzzaed  so  desperately 
for  the  king  !     But  you  did  not  become  a  dragoon  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not !  When  the  king  saw  me,  he 
laughed  and  said,  '  If  I  had  an  elephant,  my  boy,  you 
should  immediately  be  a  dragoon,  but  there  is  not  a 
horse  in  the  kingdom  of  Sweden  able  to  carry  you  Do 
you  want  to  be  a  file-leader  in  my  foot-guards  ? ' 
'  Thanks  for  the  offer,'  said  I,  *  that  is  beneath  my  dig- 
nity. I  have  seven  times  been  beaten  in  theological 
examinations.  I  will  go  to  Paul  Bertelskold,'  said  I. 
'  I  would  rather  be  his  servant,  for  you  see  he  too  is 
an  academic'  '  Well,  well !  Behold  the  learned!  '  said 
the  king.     '  That  class  of  people  have  ambition.'  " 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  a  schoolmaster,  Leo,  in  our 
new  common  school  ?  " 

"Thank  you  ;  that  would  not  be  so  bad.  I  shall 
well  enough  be  able  to  beat  common-sense  into  the 
boys." 

"Agreed  !  My  father  has  requested  me  to  get 
some  good  fellow,  and  if  you  will  promise  not  to  beat 
your  boys  to  death  from  sheer  good  intention,  the  rest 
will  take  care  of  itself.  I  suppose  you  will  see  that  no 
flies  speck  the  Catechism  ? " 

"  God  bless  you  !     Why,  I  knew  that  you   were 


326  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

going  to  be  a  civis^ — and  next  time  we  fight  with  the 
journeymen,  just  call  on  me,"  said  Leo,  blowing  his 
nose  four  times,  in  the  delight  of  his  heart. 

Meantime  the  sun,  mildly  and  majestically  as  the 
fairy-queen  of  the  sagas,  rose  above  the  tree-tops.  The 
sea  and  the  forest  sparkled,  and  the  face  of  humanity 
was  radiant  with  joy.  It  was  a  glorious  morning  after 
a  murky  night. 

Gradually  the  rest  of  the  dwellers  at  Falkby  also 
awakened,  and  among  the  earliest  was  the  countess 
herself.  Like  a  good  spirit,  she  was  present  every- 
where, and  thought  of  everything  and  everybody  ex- 
cept herself.  But  Countess  Esther  had  no  suspicion 
that  the  festivity  was  in  a  great  measure  in  her  own 
behalf. 

For  to-day  at  Falkby,  as  in  all  the  kingdom  of  Swe- 
den, the  rescue  of  the  country  from  anarchy  and  dis- 
solution was  to  be  celebrated  with  a  happy  popular 
festival.  Trustworthy  advices  had  now  arrived  from 
Stockholm,  and  General  Pechlin  had  utterly  deceived 
himself  as  to  the  mind  of  the  people.  Not  a  man 
thought  of  taking  up  arms  ;  everybody  had  become 
wearied  out  with  the  eternal  squabbling  of  the  estates, 
and  with  unmingled  delight  greeted  the  elevation  of 
the  beloved  young  king  to  a  power  which  he  used  with 
so  much  courtliness,  and  which  gave  more  real  guar- 
anty for  the  nation's  liberty  than  the  mercenary  gov- 
ernment and  the  implacable  spirit  of  persecution  under 
the  political  parties  had  ever  done.  All  the  kingdom 
of  Sweden  was  at  that  time  in  a  transport  of  happy 
excitement,  acquaintances  and  strangers  embracing 
each  other  when  they  met  in  the  streets,  and  the  cheer 
for  the  king  spread  from  the  Swedish  metropolis  in 
long  and  reverberating  echoes  from  mountain  to  moun- 
tain and  from  valley  to  valley,  from  the  shores  of  the 
North  Sea  to  the  fiords  of  Saima,  and  from  the  rip- 
pling waves  of  the  Sound  to  the  Laplanders'  fisher- 
huts  far  away  by  the  lonely  shores  of  Lake  Enare. 


MORNING  LIGHT.  327 

When  Count  Charles  Victor  Bertelsk5ld,  therefore, 
somewhat  later  in  the  bright  morning,  appeared  in  a 
pretty  festooned  balcony  in  Falkby  park,  and  spoke 
to  the  assembled  people  manly,  noble  words  about  the 
danger  of  the  kingdom,  of  the  machinations  of  foreign 
powers,  of  the  unhappy  dissension  which  for  the  last 
fifty  years  had  divided  the  people,  and  of  the  young 
king's  courage  in  hazarding  crown  and  life  for  the  res- 
cue of  his  realm, — and  when  he  afterward  exhorted  all 
freely  and  frankly  to  take  their  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  new  form  of  government,  that  they  would  faithfully, 
amid  all  changes,  live  and  die  for  law  and  liberty,  for 
king  and  country, — then  also  went  up  from  the  hearts 
of  that  assembled  crowd  one  single  immeasurable 
chorus  of  cheers,  and  the  oath  was  confirmed  by  a 
"  Long  live  the  king  !  "  louder  than  that  cry  had 
sounded  since  the  days  of  the  great  Gustaf  Adolf, 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  before.  The  honest  Ostro- 
goths were  delirious  with  joy.  They  shouted  them- 
selves so  hoarse  that  they  could  scarcely  whisper,  and 
with  their  cheer  mingled  the  bass  of  the  gigantic  Finn, 
like  the  roaring  of  a  lion. 

That  day  was  a  holiday  for  all  Falkby  ;  and  a 
magnificent  banquet  was  spread  for  the  people  on  long 
tables  in  the  park.  Old  Flinta  had  the  place  of  honor. 
Her  objections  were  of  no  avail,  and  she  was  made  to 
sit  at  the  head,  between  the  count  and  countess,  and, 
fair  and  venerable,  sat  there  like  a  past  age,  with 
her  snow-white  hair,  and  her  pious,  humble  expression. 
On  either  side  of  them  sat  Bernhard  and  Paul  Bertel- 
skold;  next  to  them  the  pastor  of  the  parish;  beside  him 
Lady  Sjoblad;  and  beside  her,  Vera,  who  had  begged  to 
be  wakened  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  hap- 
pened by  mistake  to  sleep  until  nine.  Next  to  them 
again  were  seen  a  couple  of  returned  representatives, 
who  ate  and  drank  for  the  happy  journey  of  the  estates; 
beyond  them  Bergflygt,  Leo,  Martin,  and  other  inti- 
mate friends  of  the  house,  even  the  Skanian,  Rasmus, 


328  TIMES   OF  ALCHEMY. 

who  swore  that  the  very  mares  in  the  stable  were 
shouting  hurrah  for  the  king. 

The  jest  was  not  elegant,  but  it  had  a  meaning. 
For  if  at  this  time  the»beasts  of  the  field,  the  birds  of 
the  air,  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and  even  the  gray  granite 
of  the  primeval  mountains  of  Sweden  and  Finland,  had 
possessed  a  speaking  tongue,  they  would  have  shouted 
over  land  and  sea:   "  Long  live  King  Gustaf  !  " 

And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  first  day 
in  the  kingdom  of  Sweden. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MORNING  LIGHT  AT  FALKBV. 

THE  festival  was  not  yet  complete,  and  after  its 
political  exultation  followed  the  individual  joy. 
When  the  meal  was  ended,  the  count  of  Falkby 
again  went  up  into  the  balcony  and  commanded  si- 
lence. 

*'  My  friends,"  said  he,  *'  I  have  something  yet  to 
tell  you.  God  has  given  me  that  which  every  man 
must  desire,  and  that  is  a  good  wife.  She  is  a  daughter 
of  the  people;  she  does  not  blush  for  it,  and  I  regard 
it  as  an  honor.  Through  her,  you  perceive,  our  family 
stands  in  the  midst  of  the  people,  as  I  stand  here  among 
you;  and  before  us  no  longer  exists  high  or  low,  but 
each  will  be  regarded  according  to  his  worth  as  a  human 
being.  Now  when  my  wife  went  away,  more  than  a 
year  ago,  I  secretly  promised  that,  if  God  helped  her 
safely  back,  we  should  to  all  time  preserve  the  memory 
of  her  return.  That  has  now  occurred;  and  over  there 
by  the  gate  stands  a  new  house,  which  is  to  be  called 
Esther  s  Gard.  Half  of  that  building  will  be  a  public 
school,  and  the  other  half  an  asylum  for  poor,  mother- 


MORt^IMG  LIGHT.  329 

less  children.  If  you  will  go  thither  with  me,  we  will 
ask  our  good  pastor  to  invoke  the  blessing  of  the  Lord 
on  that  new  house, — on  Esther's  Gard." 

At  these  words,  an  indescribable  jubilation  arose 
from  the  assembled  crowd.  They  thronged  around  the 
countess;  they  vied  in  kissing  her  garments,  but  she 
would  not  allow  that.  One  after  another  she  took  them 
by  the  hand,  and  reminded  them  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  an  humble  man,  and  that  they  should  regard 
her  as  one  of  themselves.  And  thus  they  all  moved  on 
to  the  new  institution. 

The  new  building  was  so  enveloped  with  flowers  and 
leaves  that  it  resembled  a  bower.  Six  poor  children, 
adorned  with  flowers,  and  conducted  by  Vera,  met  the 
countess  at  the  steps,  and  handed  her  the  keys  of  the 
house,  while  they  sung,  to  an  old  English  melody, 
some  verses  composed  by  Paul,  which  closed  with  the 
following  words : 

"  In  Esther's  gard 
Are  home  and  ward; 
In  Esther's  care 
Blest  is  the  air. 
To  God  be  praise, 
Who  Esther  sends 
A  court  like  this, 
Where  sorrow  ends, 
And  care  gives  place 
In  her  embrace." 

"Yes,"  whispered  Count  Bertelskold  to  his  wife, 
who  was  deeply  affected,  "  this  shall  be  your  court ! 
Were  you  not  once  told  that  you  were  a  born  princess  ? 
Well,  that  was  truly  spoken.  This  shall  be  your  king- 
dom !     This  crown  is  your  own  !  " 

"This  joy  is  too  great !  "  whispered  the  countess. 
"  And  that  house  was  not  erected  in  a  day  ;  you  must 
have  been  thinking  about  it  a  long  time  ?  " 

"  And  what  should  I  have  been  thinking  about,  dur- 
ing that  long  time  I  was  without  you,  if  not  of 
your  return  ?  There  is  something  else  which  I  will 
14* 


330  TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY. 

contide  to  you  alone.  Old  Flinta  will  not  long  need  her 
new  cottage,  so  I  have  appropriated  a  little  fund  con- 
tinually to  maintain,  after  her  death,  one  poor  and  pious 
old  woman  in  her  cottage.  And  the  point  of  land  where 
she  lives  shall  always  henceforth  be  called  Cape  Peace. 
Are  you  pleased  with  that  ?  " 

The  countess  pressed  his  hand. 

The  pastor  then  made  a  speech  to  the  people,  not 
without  the  froth  of  the  time  in  harangues  to  the  titled 
master  and  mistress  ;  but  when  he  observed  a  cloud  on 
their  brow,  he  abruptly  changed  his  course,  and  spoke 
so  finely  about  a  Christian  education,  and  the  poor  lit- 
tle children  who  had  here  found  an  asylum,  that  all 
again  stood  with  wet  eyes  in  the  newly- hewn  cottage. 
Then  the  benediction  was  pronounced  on  Esther's 
Gard,  the  people  sung  a  psalm,  and  the  ceremony  was 
ended. 

"When  the  count  and  countess  walked  out  on  the 
steps,  they  found  there  a  dear  guest  who  had  just  ar- 
rived— Baroness  Louise  Clairfield,  w/f  Bertelskold,  who 
had  but  just  returned  from  Berlin.  She  was  dressed 
in  mourning  for  her  husband,  and  her  volatile  but  not 
bad  heart  had  softened  under  affliction.  Her  husband 
had  left  nothing  behind  him  but  debts:  her  brief  period 
of  elation  was  past,  and  she  had  come  to  spend  the 
rest  of  her  life  in  her  paternal  home. 

"We  are  all  here  now  !"  joyfully  exclaimed  Count- 
ess Esther.  "  No  one  was  lacking  but  you,  my  Lou- 
ise ! " 

"  My  mother  !  "  said  the  former  lady  of  the  world, 
as  she  sunk  with  emotion  into  her  step-mother's  arms. 
She  too  had  ceased  to  say  "  madaine." 

Louise  Clairfield  had  been  accustomed  to  gather  all 
her  impressions  and  rules  of  life  from  her  admired 
brother  Bernhard.  When  she  saw  him  so  utterly  dif- 
ferent from  what  he  used  to  be, — as  unlike  himself  as  a 
human  being,  by  the  total  transformation  of  the  mind, 
heart,  and   thoughts,    can   become, — she   was  at  first 


MORNING  LIGHT.  331 

Startled  and  apprehensive.  But  with  a  woman's  instinct 
she  soon  began  to  understand  her  brother.  He  smiled 
when  he  perceived  her  amazement.  "  I  see  you  are 
astonished  at  finding  me  so  changed,"  said  he.  "  That 
is  because  you  have  never  known  Mora  from  Ostanlid." 

The  people  were  afterward  amused  the  whole  day 
with  games  in  the  park.  But  over  Paul's  handsome 
dark  eyes  lay  a  touch  of  sadness,  for  he  recognized  the 
baroness'  new  waiting- maid,  who  was  tripping  across 
the  yard  with  a  well-known  saucy  air.  It  was  the  incor- 
rigible, cunning,  pert  Babette. 

But  his  thoughts  soon  received  a  happier  impulse 
when  Count  Bernhard  showed  him  a  recently  arrived 
letter  from  Eric  Ljung,  who  was  well,  in  his  happy 
Surutoin,  with  his  brisk  Erica,  and  who  sent  word  that 
he  had  now  concluded  the  purchase  of  the  mentioned 
estate  in  Finland  on  Count  Bernhard's  account.  "Cecilia 
Larsson,"  so  ran  the  letter,  "sends  word  to  her  friend 
Paul  that  the  oak  at  Surutoin  has  grown  higher  than  the 
roof,  and  she  encloses  to  him  the  accompanying  leaf 
from  her  prettiest  rose." 

Paul  no  longer  saw  Babette.  He  kissed  the  rose- 
leaf. 

And  thus  was  the  evening  and  the  morning  at 
Falkby.  But  out  in  the  park  the  voices  of  children 
were  still  heard  singing  : 

"  In  Esther's  Gard 
Are  home  and  ward  ; 
In  Esther's  care 
Blest  is  the  air. 
Our  God  we  bless 
Who  Esther  sends 
A  court  like  this  !  " 


END  OF  THE  SURGEON  S  STORIES. 


II 


m 

m 
iii 


i 


IIP 

i 
IP 


III 


pill 

i 
111 


m 

I 

iiiiii!! 


iii!!!!; 
iiiii!! 


1\\^ 


*»«^!vxvO»'*^' 


ov 


\^ 


.^v 


xt^i  ";.tY>»^* 


v^^^^1m»**^ 


S»i 


tv\^ 


VN^^ 


\> 


Nt^ 


V> 


^^\S 


^oo^:^:^v^l 


v^^o^^^vo^ 


s^ 


J- 


uc 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  im^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


ivA      001  371  760 


